SanSpOrtelio - for all sports news in San Ortelio

[San Ortelio]

2-4th of August
Football
IFCF - First Qualifying Round

---

Liga B Champions Trophy

Western Avondale (SYL) 0-2 Catrallo Athletic (SOR)

Challengers Cup

Virtus Redoccio (SOR) 1-1 Elspachia (MRC)
FC Pesari (SOR) 2-1 Kimbishtki Royals FC (SPI)
Catherina FC (DEL) 2-1 Fagli Cinquanta (SOR)

Champions League

Ottawa Geese (ESL) 0-3 Catrallo Calcio (SOR)

---

Catrallo Athletic Man of the Match

Mattia Santoro dropped out of the Serie Nazionale before the age of thirty, but found a second spring with the capital’s “biggest smallest club”. Never much of a goalgetter, Santoro thrives in a strong tandem with youngster Valerio Pizzi around whom he can make the miles. It usually places his teammate in the spotlight but against the Sylestonians, it was Santoro who shined with a marvellous goal past keeper Angry. “I’m feeling more comfortable on the pitch than ever,” he explained his new-found success and we must say that this ease of mind shows.


Virtus Redoccio Man of the Match

In their opening match of the season, Albino Romero’s Virtus struggled to dictate their will against the number four of last season’s MPL - but the same could be said for Elspachia, eager to break into their first IFCF group stage. In these circumstances, stability and calmth in possession is crucial and Francesco Bagheria delivered just that. Sharp like a knife in the duels with Tripi and Johnson, Bagheria managed to keep the difficult balance between a hacker and a builder - giving the assisting pass for the sole goal from Zsinko. After a year in the shadows, Bagheria could play himself back into the spotlight like this and - why not - the national selection.

FC Pesari Woman of the Match

Landing just below the ‘one goal per two games’ barrier in her two first seasons with I Pappagalli, Cassadaiguan Jessica Murphy took a headstart in the Stadio del Fiume. The numbers were against the visitors from the Southern Palm Islands as they were yet to win a Challengers’ Cup doubleheader, but an early miscommunication in the back gave the underdogs the chance to lean back. It is a testimony to the development of Murphy that despite the lack of space, she managed to escape her direct opponents twice, showcasing the whole scala of her skills: the first one was a piece of clever positioning to rattle in a Lagrange cross, for the second one she needed to use her strength to get in possession - but she finished it off with a velvet touch.

Fagli Cinquanta Man of the Match

In a game in which the Delaclavan home team dominated the debate, it seems to make sense to nominate one of their star duo Soto or McBride. But the Ortelian MotM trophy nonetheless goes to Adalberto Siboni who, despite only playing for twenty-five minutes, came as close to a dream debut as possible. Coming on for an aching Okonye, he accidentally stopped the 3-0 on a corner kick before marking with a marvellous volley - 2-1 and a new hope for Fagli’s ambitions. For a man who two years ago was on the edge of the roster at Serie Regionale’s VC Pesari, the dream continues and the question is where it stops for the 24-year old. Can he do the unthinkable and break up the invincible pairing of Okonye and Rodgers who lifted this club to a new level?

Catrallo Calcio Man of the Match

There are a lot of obvious candidates for the glowing performance in Eshialand: from Carmine Garofalo who opened the year with a brace, over the uncatchable Lorenzo Moreschini and the dominant Gaetano Lucarelli. But it’s Pasargan midfield director Nidal Thamer who must have made his way into the most notebooks of international scouts. Made one or two rough tackles when needed, but knows perfectly when to apply brute force and when not. Not only formed an unbreakable buffer ahead of the defense but was almost impossible to dispossess. It shows that his teammates in any situation dare to pass him the leather as even under pressure, he always finds a simple but effective solution. Not a spectacular star for the stands, but extremely crucial for the plan of this team.

[San Ortelio]

6th of August
Triathlon
LaLoda Piccolo powered by SpyriSol

---

Men’s

1 Rinaldo Loda            1:51:56.49
2 Enzio Cerutti           1:53:28.96
3 Filippo Ronchetti       1:53:56.87
4 Antonio Valeri          1:54:12.42
5 Arnulfo Tursi           1:55:00.70

Women’s

1 Lauretta Cipriano       2:04:19.02
2 Silvia Lucarelli        2:04:41.73
3 Daria Del Mastro        2:05:05.42
4 Lina Piola              2:05:20.54
5 Eva Brigante            2:05:28.66

“Once again, congratulations Rinaldo - a good final rehearsal for the real thing!”
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it. Let’s hope for some good energy there!”

Rinaldo Loda, the man who had become synonymous with triathlon in San Ortelio, walked out of the meeting room. It had been a fruitful one, in theory. Together, they had debriefed the first LaLoda Piccolo to be held in Pesari. There were some just remarks on the course setting, but a good crowd had showed up to welcome home the finishers and the enthusiasm had been contagious. Up next, Rinaldo and the team from Spyrisol had looked forward to the actual LaLoda, the most brutal sports event in the country which was scheduled in five weeks. Entries were once again not flowing in, but it gave the whole thing a certain grandeur - only the fittest dared to tip their toe into this challenge. And yet, as the footsteps from Loda on the modern concrete floor died down, the remaining trio looked to one another. It was Letizia, the ambitious marketing manager, who dared to voice the general concern.

“Rinaldo is a good egg, but there’s only that much that people want to see of that.”
“He was, is and remains a key brand ambassador - he wears our corporate t-shirt more than our installers,” Theodoro noted. After all, it had been him who had recognised his likable nature, brought in the young daredevil and turned him into the figurehead of the renewable energy company: a success Theodoro enjoyed claiming.
“Of course, of course,” Letizia smoothened things with the VP, “but there will be a point where the audience is sick and tired of Rinaldo Loda dominating the field. He still had the Olympics in his legs and still beat Cerutti by over a minute and a half.”
“Maybe he needs a female counterpart,” Theodoro mused, “Daria Del Mastro is only twenty-one, if she can keep up that development, who knows where she could land?”
“I was thinking in the direction of a rival, someone to combat against in the closing minutes of the race rather than clapping hands with the roadside spectators,” Letizia replied.

The third man around the table hadn’t spoken a word anymore since Rinaldo’s exit. Claudio Vignali was only 41, but had built San Ortelio’s main solar energy company from the ground up. He believed in the ‘giving back to the people’ message which Loda distributed, but he believed a bit more in commerce.

“If we don’t find someone who is his match,” he stated with the aplomb of an oracle, “we won’t make a single headline anymore with LaLoda Piccolo. Find me a rival - being it in Esca, in San Mamerto or just at some god forgotten dirt track in Anaia, I don’t care. Someone you love to hate and who doesn’t mind being the antihero for the right price.”

[San Ortelio]

6th-7th of August
Waterpolo
Lega Pallanuoto Nationale - MD12

---

Results

Astello Mare       8–6    Tridente Toccagno
Barceglie Club     5–10   Pesari Pescadores
Focarsane          8–7        Stella Anezzo
PN Catrallo        8–7                FARPE
Stampano ANC       8–8    Neptunus Pollagno

Table

Lega Pallanuoto Nazionale  Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts
 1 Stampano ANC             12    8   3   1   112   80  +32    27
 2 Pesari Pescadores        12    8   1   3   108   77  +31    25
 3 Barceglie Club           12    7   4   1   102   89  +13    25
 4 Focarsane                12    6   2   4    95   95    0    20
 5 Astello Mare             12    6   1   5    94   98   −4    19
 6 Neptunus Pollagno        12    5   3   4    96  100   −4    18
 7 Stella Anezzo            12    4   1   7    88   99  −11    13
 8 Tridente Toccagno        12    3   2   7    96  105   −9    11
 9 PN Catrallo              12    3   1   8    86   96  −10    10
10 FARPE                    12    1   0  11    80  118  −38     3

"And we are going live to Barceglie for the closing moments of the clash of the matchday, where Pesari Pescadores are having a field day, it seems?"

"Indeed, Ettore, this is slowly but surely turning into a humiliation. Barceglie had not been beaten yet this season but now they get caught by a team with more speed in possession, more movement of the ball and simply more talent. The Pescadores struggled in the opening part of the year in absence of key players Piero Moresi and Rodolfo Valeron but right now, the engine has not just turned on but is speeding at full force towards the leader position. The news of the Stampano draw at the hands of Neptunus has not only reached the crowd but also the reserves and they are cheering on their mates in the water as if the title is already a fact.
It will remain an uphill, or should we say upstream, battle for them but now Pesari has their faith in their own hands: one streak and they might lift another title trophy. They're now monopolizing possession, Beretti to Signorelli, to Tosatto, back to Beretti, and Barceglie even stopped sticking to their direct opponent. It's an uppercut for Club, on their way to a dream but tonight, it turns into a nightmare. Can they, oh, I was going to ask, can they recover from this but it is another attack from Pesari and yes, there is number ten. Valerio Tosatto with his third of the confrontation and it must be over now - ample seconds left before Club is relieved and the Pescadores can celebrate a crucial and deserved win over their longstanding rivals."
"Thank you, Stefano, we will get back to you after this lovely tune from I Alveari."

---

"It is time to head back to the seaside in Barceglie as Stefano has Paolo Beretti with him, author of two points for a triumphant Pesari."

“Indeed, I have the triumphant Pesari key player here with me. Paolo, tell me, how does this feel?”
“Well, good of course. It’s for those big games that you train and work so when we can turn that into a victory, that feels good.”
“We just saw your brother Stanzo walk past, no congratulations or nothing - bit of a tension or am I interpreting that the wrong way?”
“Nah, I mean. It’s not the moment to poke him with this result now, but in a day or two, that will be fine. It is normal that he is now focussed on his own team and their performance. Let us face it, this wasn’t the best Barceglie we have seen so far this season, so I understand he is not in the mood for joking around.”
“What made the difference today because there was a huge gap both on the scoreboard and in the water?”
“We really managed to keep the flow of possession going, fast passing game and they couldn’t cope with that.”
“It is a remarkable result especially as this is the first time in history that the Pescadores could win over here - and then with such a result?”
“In the opening years of the league, a ‘pool’ club like us always struggled over here in a ‘bay’ arena but that gap closed down. I mean, we must have picked up something in all these years, right?”

[San Ortelio]

7th of August
Football
Serie Nazionale - MD1

---

Results

Virtus Redoccio 0–1 Inter Catrallo
Esca Unione 1–0 Pro Stampano
SSD Borgonovo 2–2 Sportiva Montelcampo
Fagli Cinquanta 1–1 FC Pesari
Catrallo Calcio 2–1 FC Orsi
US San Savola 0–0 Robur Astello

Table

Serie Nazionale          Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
 1 Catrallo Calcio         1    1   0   0     2    1   +1     3
 2 Esca Unione             1    1   0   0     1    0   +1     3
   Inter Catrallo          1    1   0   0     1    0   +1     3
 4 Sportiva Montelcampo    1    0   1   0     2    2    0     1
   SSD Borgonovo           1    0   1   0     2    2    0     1
 6 Fagli Cinquanta         1    0   1   0     1    1    0     1
   FC Pesari               1    0   1   0     1    1    0     1
 8 Robur Astello           1    0   1   0     0    0    0     1
   US San Savola           1    0   1   0     0    0    0     1
10 FC Orsi                 1    0   0   1     1    2   −1     0
11 Pro Stampano            1    0   0   1     0    1   −1     0
   Virtus Redoccio         1    0   0   1     0    1   −1     0

Golazo of the Week powered by Brantelli
The pasta sauce that tastes like home

Nominee 1 - Chikelu Okonye (Fagli Cinquanta) ---> One of the players who is a regular in this selection but this time he didn't make the mark for one of his thunderous shots. Pesari did an excellent job defending their lead but suddenly the Cinquanta midfield clicked like clockwork. Man in form Valentin Spinesi, newcomer Samantha Alexander and linchpin Yannis Kinsella found one another with one touch and with a ridiculous chip, Spinesi found Okonye unmarked. Top class technique.

Nominee 2 - Angelo Cotillard (Sportiva Montelcampo) ---> When a late equalizer feels like a winner. Sportiva kicked off the season with quite some pressure on their shoulders and that definitely goes for Cotillard who saw veteran Swyripa swoop past him for the starting spot. The young striker seemed on his way for an anonymous sub till the ball got dropped in the box in minute 93. Eight members of Il Socio in the box and his back to the goal, but with just one touch, Cotillard presented himself a chance for a volley that disappeared out of reach for Mosca.

Nominee 3 - Nkechi Orjee (SSD Borgonovo) ---> It is unfortunate that most will recall the celebration, a sign of support for the Akongo Regime in neighbouring Nyowani Kitara as the goal itself was rightly stellar. A slightly desperate kick forward from Mirarchi suddenly became a chance via his fast rush on the wing. With only Krupp in support, Orjee slid past Cattai, made the doublepass with his Eshialandian counterpart and then buried it in the furthest corner, to the right of a scrambling Campoy.

Nominee 4 - Vasco Cardoso (FC Orsi) ---> The strike from the capricious right foot did not reap any points, for that the dominance of Calcio was too strong, but Cardoso did salvage the scoreline with a thing of beauty. A goal that looks like luck but then again, only he can wrongfoot a goalie like Lindt for the Bears. Mladen Sikimic didn't have the greatest of blasts on his debut but did carve it very nicely into the box where Cardoso, almost mindless, deflected it with the outside of his right to score with one touch.

(Jezus Christ, five? There were only eleven goals this weekend, I mean… ok)
Nominee 5 - Imerio Gallicardi (Esca Unione) ---> In a confrontation between two teams hellbend on avoiding an early loss, creating chances would always be a problem. Deep in the second half, holding midfielder Gallicardi scanned for someone in front of him to deliver it to but they were caught in the defensive plan from Pambianco. Out of options, he moved it forward and then hit it with all he got, only to see the leather whizz past Trasciano, securing three valuable points for the home squad.

[San Ortelio]

9-11th of August
Football
IFCF - First Qualifying Round

---

Liga B Champions Trophy

Catrallo Athletic (SOR) 0-1 Western Avondale (SYL)

Challengers Cup

Elspachia (MRC) 1-2 Virtus Redoccio (SOR)
Kimbishtki Royals FC (SPI) 0-2 FC Pesari (SOR)
Fagli Cinquanta (SOR) 3-1 [AET] Catherina FC (DEL)

Champions League

Catrallo Calcio (SOR) 1-1 Ottawa Geese (ESL)

---

Matchwinners

Even if Valentin gave him a calming pad on the shoulder, Yannis Kinsella angrily lashed out on the post. Even the usually so composed Tikariotian could not hide his frustration. Ever after Catherina FC fell back to ten people, Fagli had dominated this confrontation, supported by a filled-to-the-brim Stadio Scarpa. Many considered La Fa to be a plastic club, bankrolled by Di Callare, but the roars that rolled off the stands currently gave away that it was just a side growing into a new role. Valentin understood that as no other. Everyone had been pulling his arm to sign for them two years ago, but he knew very well why he had signed with Cinquanta - it was a booming club with financial means, a craving for new heroes and an open position as playmaker. He took to it like a fish to water.

But the substantial growth of the club hinged on key moments. If they ever wanted to break the naming of the Big Three, Fagli needed to go beyond their accomplishments. The loss in last year’s Coppa quarterfinals, a painful 0-3 at the hands of Pesari, still stung like a thorn for Spinesi. A deep IFCF run could have mitigated that, but Myana was simply two levels above on the last step to last year’s Challengers Cup group stage. On the other hand, the game had underlined how close a club like Cinquanta could come to that level, so the pressure was on not to drop out at the first step. After ninety minutes, everybody knew it was possible, adrenaline was running through the veins - just a goal against a waning opponent, with the crowd behind them, how hard could it be?

But the Delaclavans refused to break. Wave after wave of attacks ended up short, with the best one being wiped off the line by Josh Torres. And the squad grew frustrated, trying things beyond their reach. Valentin Spinesi looked at it with astonishment, how his strong and talented line-up could fall apart when they had to fight the clock. Even the coach seemed to lose it, shouting like a kid to his video game. It pushed Michele Faini, usually a midfield water carrier, to try dribbling McBride. Luckily, the Delaclavan star had grown tired and faulted him, about thirty yards from the goal. Usually Spinesi took them, but now he calmly drew Kinsella close, seemingly the only one with his head still in it.

“Yannis - let’s pull the Esca trick.”
“Now?” the Tikariotian looked stunned, “Here?”

Spinesi didn’t even need to nod for Kinsella to know that his objections were no match to the confidence of the 19-year old. He had walked into the dressing room a year ago, sharp without any bling, notably unnoticeable. But then he talked, and then he played and it was clear he didn’t need a ribbon to decide on stuff. Kinsella waved everyone forward, every defender mobbed the box and the Catherina players had no option but to guard themselves, minimizing the wall. As Spinesi walked away, seemingly taking up the role of last defender, one Delaclavan seemed to catch it. He yelled, but too late: Kinsella passed it to the side and from thirty metres away, Spinesi put his laces through it. Was it uncatchable? No, but with fifteen men in front of him, the goalie had no chance to see this falling leaf in time.

---

New Sevada Stadium roared as Wilfred Thabo slung his way through the defensive line but a last-ditch tackle from Carthy Yila saved the day once more. The Chromatikan newcomer had been given quite a baptism of fire but so far, his pairing with Juvenar Mallerbury showed long-term potential.

“Com’on guys, seven more minutes,” captain Confalonieri bellowed as all lined up for the resulting corner. The grizzled midfielder meant it well, but it was telling that they were counting down the time. For most of the double confrontation, Virtus and Elspachia had balanced out one another, but now the Mercedinians took over the lead ruthlessly, eager to draw this to a close within ninety minutes.
“Seven more minutes to score for us,” Paulina Philipsdottir screamed. In most situations, she would have gotten a few sniggers but now, most were just too tired for that right now. In her voice stood a bit of frustration - she hated the undertone from Confalonieri’s words. The Graintfjaller might be considered from the outside as a particular cookie, a bit wacky and quite outspoken, but she also knew that every teammate preferred her on her team rather than the other way around because she would tear the others apart, whether it was a World Cup final or a 5-vs-5 on the training pitch.

The corner landed in the second zone, with Zrnic trying to head it back towards the penalty point to surprise them. However, it turned out lucky for Virtus and especially for Walter Moro. The Virtus goalie grew over his years with the Strawberries but moments like this still earned him some critics: he had walked out to grab but it had gone over his head. The header from Zrnic, however, landed accidentally in his hands. Before he could properly process that, a shrieking voice perforated his ear drum, “just laaaunch”, with a thick Graintfjaller accent.

Without putting much thought into it, Moro kicked it forward. Zsinko, the Pasargan left there as a remaining tower, went into the air against Simonis. A nasty, clumsy duel, with two men eventually failing to properly deflect the leather that bounced further across the halfline, seemingly left apart. Susila noticed the danger in the corner of his eye but his tackle came too late - there came Paulina Philipsdottir, passing the ball forward, just hard enough to entice Tatius to leave his goal, just soft enough so she was first on the ball for a beautiful chip that silenced the whole stadium.

[San Ortelio]

13-14th of August
Athletics
National Championships Decathlon & Heptathlon

---

Men’s

100m
 1 Daniele Antonucci       10.81    903
 2 Andrea Citro            11.02    854
 3 Lorenzo Belli           11.14    830
 4 Manuel Paponi           11.21    814
 5 Antonio Mazzotta        11.23    808
 6 Valerio Mazzotta        11.24    808
 7 Fabio Mucelli           11.28    797
 8 Pierluigi Terranova     11.47    757
 9 Giambattista Dirisio    11.63    723
10 Fiorenzo Somma          11.85    679

Long Jump
 1 Valerio Mazzotta         7.02      X   7.21     7.21    864    1672  (1)
 2 Pierluigi Terranova      7.16   6.96      X     7.16    854    1611
 3 Fabio Mucelli               X   7.05   7.07     7.07    833    1630
 4 Antonio Mazzotta         7.04   6.91      X     7.04    826    1634
 5 Fiorenzo Somma           7.04   6.80      X     7.04    826    1505
 6 Andrea Citro             6.44   6.77   6.86     6.86    783    1637  (3)
 7 Manuel Paponi            6.79   6.68      X     6.79    767    1581
 8 Daniele Antonucci        6.50      X   6.70     6.70    746    1649  (2)
 9 Lorenzo Belli               X   6.25      X     6.25    641    1471
 — Giambattista Dirisio        X      X      X        X      0     723

Shot Put
 1 Daniele Antonucci       13.60      X  14.80    14.80    778    2427  (1)
 2 Andrea Citro            14.70  13.28  11.89    14.70    772    2409  (2)
 3 Fabio Mucelli           14.67  14.60  13.50    14.67    769    2399
 4 Antonio Mazzotta        13.87  12.69  14.65    14.65    769    2403
 5 Valerio Mazzotta            X      X  14.09    14.09    734    2406  (3)
 6 Manuel Paponi               X  13.90  12.17    13.90    723    2304
 7 Giambattista Dirisio    13.65      X  13.84    13.84    719    1442
 8 Pierluigi Terranova         X  13.74  12.76    13.74    713    2324
 9 Lorenzo Belli           12.34  13.39  13.01    13.39    692    2163
10 Fiorenzo Somma          13.35  11.45  13.09    13.35    689    2194

High Jump
 1 Fabio Mucelli             o    o    o    o    o    o  xxx      1.90  714    3113  (3)
   Antonio Mazzotta          o    o    o    o    o    o  xxx      1.90  714    3117  (1)
 3 Giambattista Dirisio      o    o   xo    o  xxo  xxo  xxx      1.90  714    2156
 4 Fiorenzo Somma            o    o    o    o    o  xxx           1.87  687    2881
 5 Valerio Mazzotta          o    o    o   xo    o  xxx           1.87  687    3093
 6 Lorenzo Belli             o    o    o   xo   xo  xxx           1.87  687    2850
   Daniele Antonucci         o    o    o   xo   xo  xxx           1.87  687    3114  (2)
   Pierluigi Terranova       o    o    o   xo   xo  xxx           1.87  687    3011
 9 Manuel Paponi             o    o    o   xo  xxx                1.84  661    2965
10 Andrea Citro              o    o    o  xxx                     1.81  636    3045

400m
 1 Fabio Mucelli           49.25    849    3962  (1)
 2 Valerio Mazzotta        49.79    824    3917  (2)
 3 Pierluigi Terranova     50.18    806    3817
 4 Fiorenzo Somma          50.47    793    3674
 5 Manuel Paponi           50.59    787    3752
 6 Daniele Antonucci       50.72    781    3895  (3)
 7 Giambattista Dirisio    50.96    771    2927
 8 Antonio Mazzotta        51.40    751    3868
 9 Andrea Citro            51.41    750    3795
 — Lorenzo Belli             DNF      0

110m Hurdles
 1 Antonio Mazzotta        14.34    930    4798  (3)
 2 Daniele Antonucci       14.53    907    4804  (2)
 3 Andrea Citro            14.63    895    4690
 4 Fabio Mucelli           14.72    882    4844  (1)
 5 Giambattista Dirisio    14.89    863    3790
 6 Fiorenzo Somma          15.28    816    4490
 7 Pierluigi Terranova     15.31    812    4629
 8 Valerio Mazzotta        15.91    743    4660
 — Manuel Paponi             DNF      0

Discus Throw
 1 Fabio Mucelli           44.89  36.71      X    44.89    765    5609  (1)
 2 Valerio Mazzotta        40.01  42.26  43.19    43.19    730    5390
 3 Fiorenzo Somma          42.36  36.69  41.22    42.36    713    5203
 4 Andrea Citro            38.69      X  41.94    41.94    704    5394
 5 Pierluigi Terranova     34.50  38.74  40.40    40.40    673    5302
 6 Daniele Antonucci       39.82      X  40.24    40.24    670    5474  (2)
 7 Giambattista Dirisio    39.99      X      X    39.99    665    4455
 8 Antonio Mazzotta        34.27  39.72      X    39.72    659    5457  (3)

Pole Vault
 1 Daniele Antonucci         o    o    o   xo   xo    o  xxo  xxo  xxx  4.70  819    6293  (2)
 2 Fabio Mucelli             o    o    o    o    o  xxo  xxx            4.50  760    6369  (1)
 3 Giambattista Dirisio      o    o  xxo    o   xo  xxo  xxx            4.50  760    5215
 4 Andrea Citro              o    o    o    o    o  xxx                 4.40  731    6125
 5 Antonio Mazzotta          o    o    o   xo    o  xxx                 4.40  731    6188  (3)
 6 Fiorenzo Somma            o    o    o    o  xxx                      4.30  702    5905
   Valerio Mazzotta          o    o    o    o  xxx                      4.30  702    6092
 8 Pierluigi Terranova       o    o    o  xxx                           4.20  673    5975

Javelin Throw
 1 Andrea Citro            50.99  49.72  61.14    61.14    755    6780  (3)
 2 Pierluigi Terranova     52.31      X  57.70    57.70    703    6678
 3 Daniele Antonucci           X  44.18  57.40    57.40    699    6992  (2)
 4 Fabio Mucelli               X  56.15  49.06    56.15    680    7049  (1)
 5 Fiorenzo Somma          45.84  50.31      X    50.31    593    6498
 6 Antonio Mazzotta        48.95  47.88  46.96    48.95    573    6761
 7 Giambattista Dirisio    46.07  48.80      X    48.80    571    5786
 8 Valerio Mazzotta        48.25      X      X    48.25    563    6655

1500m
 1 Fiorenzo Somma          4:46.82      638    7136  (7)
 2 Daniele Antonucci       4:53.52      598    7590  (2)
 3 Andrea Citro            4:55.90      584    7364  (3)
 4 Fabio Mucelli           4:57.31      575    7624  (1)
 5 Pierluigi Terranova     5:00.35      558    7236  (5)
 6 Valerio Mazzotta        5:01.41      552    7207  (6)
 7 Antonio Mazzotta        5:10.01      503    7264  (4)
 8 Giambattista Dirisio    5:12.23      491    6277  (8)

Women’s
100m Hurdles
 1 Angela Carravetta       13.72   1017
 2 Lucia Soro              13.77   1011
 3 Noemi Difronzo          14.14    959
 4 Lea Strisciuglio        14.20    949
 5 Antonella Manno         14.59    895
 — Maria Larenza             DNF      0

High Jump
 1 Noemi Difronzo            o    o    o    o   xo   xo    o  xxx    1.71  867    1826  (3)
   Angela Carravetta         o    o    o   xo    o   xo    o  xxx    1.71  867    1884  (1)
 3 Lucia Soro                o    o    o    o    o    o  xxx         1.68  830    1831  (2)
 4 Lea Strisciuglio          o    o    o    o    o  xxx              1.65  795    1744
 5 Antonella Manno           o    o    o    o  xxx                   1.62  759    1654

Shot Put
 1 Noemi Difronzo              X  12.76  10.97    12.76    711    2537  (1)
 2 Lucia Soro              12.30  11.51  12.38    12.38    687    2518  (3)
 3 Antonella Manno         11.43  12.26  12.03    12.26    678    2332
 4 Lea Strisciuglio        12.21  10.79  10.60    12.21    676    2420
 5 Angela Carravetta           X      X  11.76    11.76    645    2529  (2)

200m
 1 Angela Carravetta       24.99    887    3416  (1)
 2 Lea Strisciuglio        25.27    862    3282
 3 Noemi Difronzo          25.31    859    3396  (2)
 4 Lucia Soro              25.55    836    3354  (3)
 5 Antonella Manno         25.89    806    3138

Long Jump
 1 Noemi Difronzo           5.71   6.12   5.92     6.12    890    4286  (1)
 2 Angela Carravetta        6.01      X      X     6.01    853    4269  (2)
 3 Antonella Manno          5.92   5.72   5.89     5.92    825    3963
 4 Lea Strisciuglio            X   5.77   5.91     5.91    825    4107
 5 Lucia Soro                  X   5.82      X     5.82    798    4152  (3)

Javelin Throw
 1 Angela Carravetta       35.73  41.84  42.32    42.32    712    4981  (1)
 2 Noemi Difronzo              X  41.45      X    41.45    695    4981  (1)
 3 Lea Strisciuglio        38.00      X  39.23    39.23    653    4760
 4 Lucia Soro              38.10  38.49  38.58    38.58    640    4792  (3)
 5 Antonella Manno         37.06  35.43  37.97    37.97    628    4591

800m
1 Angela Carravetta     2:15.03    892    5873  (1)
2 Noemi Difronzo        2:17.18    862    5843  (2)
3 Lea Strisciuglio      2:18.77    840    5600  (3)
4 Antonella Manno       2:21.72    800    5391  (5)
5 Lucia Soro            2:24.72    760    5552  (4)

---

A tale of two duels
From our athletics correspondent Gianni Abbadi

A few hundred spectators showed up at the dilapidated field of Montelcampo AC. The organising club puts their heart in it, as usual, but cannot hide that the meagre interest in track and field reflects in their funding. Some will call a beach umbrella that needs to be moved every hour, shading the food stand, charming - others simply amateuristic. The stadium itself has seen better times, with the open stand worn by the weather and the center field nearly unusable: we saw two or three javelins bounce off. Nothing breathed the atmosphere of a fight for the national title and the modest field size - with only six competitors in the female category and just ten in the male - did not help there.

Nothing… But the intensity of the competition, which ensured that those absent were missing out. In the men's category, all eyes were on Fabio Mucelli whose eighth title had been all but engraved on the trophy already. But had 'Il Piccolo Hercules' dominated by over four hundred points last year, then now he got a real competition on his hands. It gives testament to his personality that not once, Mucelli looked towards the demanding Olympics as an excuse. No, he rather pointed out that the advent of Daniele Antonucci was not a surprise for those in the know. The home athlete, almost a decade younger than Mucelli, had performed fairly anonymous last season but literally darted out of the starting blocks in the opening 100m. A strong shot put result assured that it took Fabio Mucelli till the last event of the opening day to claim his spot. Yet, he did identify his opponent correctly, notifying the press that Antonio Mazzotta, on his way to a PB, would fall back on day two as is customary for him. But Antonucci had no plans in that direction and so a new rival for Fabio Mucelli stood up - on the day that his previous one, Giambattista Dirisio suffered a black-out on the long jump.

What followed was a fierce but fair duel with both athletes showing their strengths: Antonucci showed his explosiveness on the hurdles, Mucelli his technical craftsmanship with the discus. It became truly entertaining when the newcomer scaled 4m70 on the pole vault before clawing back a few more points with another personal best on the javelin throw. Despite his age, he kept his cool and pushed himself to his limits whilst Mucelli looked tiring: it was telling that he got the javelin five metres less far than on the Agri Cricket Ground. With 57 points or roughly nine seconds separating them for the final 1500m, suddenly everything was on the cards. It was the start of a race that showed that psychology is as important as the legs in this discipline. Mucelli outwitted his opponent by taking the lead of the nearly full pack at a fairly slow pace. Only in the final lap, Antonucci saw through the masquerade and broke away but too late for glory. But there was no animosity between them as they fell into one another's arms. Victor Mucelli declared to everyone around that he had seen 'his heir' (a bit of a blow to Terranova who carried that title before but performed anonymously this year) whilst Daniele Antonucci claimed it was an honour to come this close to a 'childhood hero'.

For those with no lust for or interest in a civil duel, the women's category provided all one could desire. The size of the field has been a source of worries for years now with the FALSO doing less than the bare minimum to keep the field events in the picture. It is painful to note that only one athlete under 25, Lea Strisciuglio, could be found in all of San Ortelio to pick up the glove of this demanding but marvellous competition. But it is not just the quantity that forms a cause for worries - the national record never came into sight and that whilst the top two of the rankings should be considered to be on the peak of their possibilities. Indeed, Noemie Difronzo and Angela Carravetta, who shared the wins in the individual events among them, both near thirty but a points total over 6200, let alone an attack on the NR from Valeria Soldani, will never be on their books. That knowledge did not turn the competition less fierce or tense. Things heated up already on the opening day when Carravetta insisted on a recheck of Difronzo's second shot put attempt. Whilst it remains unclear if her foot was out of bounds, the judges ruled the complaint as formally incorrect, making the camp of the defending champ insist on foul play.

Due to injuries and other circumstances, it was only the second direct duel between both double national gold medallists. Two years ago, things ended anticlimactically with Caravetta bowing out in the final race due to a foot injury. But the Esca-born heptathlete looked for revenge - even if her opening day lead got lost in the high jump, she limited the damage to a handful of points. In the javelin throw, Noemi Difronzo showed tenacity in turn, taking a personal best at a perfect time for it and putting the two rivals exactly equal ahead of the closing event. The double lap turned into a game of chess with neither willing to take the lead, going around other opponents just to avoid getting caught out by one another. It was at 250m from the line that Angela Carravetta ignited her attack and despite an immediate reaction, Noemi Difronzo had to let go of her rival. For Carravetta, this ensured her third triumph in four years, but she celebrated alone. Difronzo, member of the local club, decried the complaint and "other attempts for destabilisation". It resulted in a podium with only one smiling face - Strisciuglio winning her first medal - and tons of frustration. Bitter oaths for revenge were sworn in the aftermath which set the scene for a potential new rematch next year, hopefully with a larger crowd on the stands and in the arena.

[San Ortelio]

13-14th of August
Football
Serie Nazionale - MD2

---

Results

Inter Catrallo 0–0 Robur Astello
FC Orsi 0–1 US San Savola
FC Pesari 3–3 Catrallo Calcio
Sportiva Montelcampo 3–1 Fagli Cinquanta
Pro Stampano 3–0 SSD Borgonovo
Virtus Redoccio 1–0 Esca Unione

Table

Serie Nazionale          Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
 1 Sportiva Montelcampo    2    1   1   0     5    3   +2     4
 2 Catrallo Calcio         2    1   1   0     5    4   +1     4
 3 Inter Catrallo          2    1   1   0     1    0   +1     4
   US San Savola           2    1   1   0     1    0   +1     4
 5 Pro Stampano            2    1   0   1     3    1   +2     3
 6 Virtus Redoccio         2    1   0   1     1    1    0     3
 7 Esca Unione             2    1   0   1     1    1    0     3
 8 FC Pesari               2    0   2   0     4    4    0     2
 9 Robur Astello           2    0   2   0     0    0    0     2
10 Fagli Cinquanta         2    0   1   1     2    4   −2     1
11 SSD Borgonovo           2    0   1   1     2    5   −3     1
12 FC Orsi                 2    0   0   2     1    3   −2     0

---

An excerpt of the ‘Lexicon of Ortelian football’, a booklet assembled and printed at the celebration of seventy-five years of organised football in San Ortelio

D - Derby d’Ortelio

The Derby d'Ortelio is the colloquial name of the confrontations between FC Pesari and Catrallo Calcio. Whilst any duel between members of the Big Three forms an assurance for days of headlines, this one in particular carries a specific weight which finds its causes in all sections of the two clubs. Across the boardrooms, many clashes have been fought to sign the next big thing in the effectively limited pool of Ortelian talent. More often than not, a move from the direct opponent forced either hand to overpay on a target, pitting “the peasants up north” and the “arrogant bastards from the capital” against one another. That sentiment lives on in the stands, where every stereotype in the book about the distinction between the northern and southern peninsula immediately gets projected on the team. I Pappagalli, as the yellow-and-blue are known, consider themselves the more cultured club. For years, they prided themselves on gathering the more technically apt side even if San Ortelio's biggest star, Gianmarco Del Prete, graced the navy shirt. Catrallo Calcio, on the other hand, proclaim themselves as hard workers and true winners. It is easy to see how, if you switch stands, the prejudices translate to 'the lazy ones' and 'the obnoxious ones'.

As both clubs are household names for the top six and the Serie A, they meet at least four times each year, ensuring a myriad of legendary confrontations. Every avid fan of either club can immediately track back memories to "the one with the second ball" (where Catrallo goalie Valentino threw a spare ball into a Pesari counterattack), the Olimpico in the Olimpico (a majestic goal on corner from 'La Leggenda' Del Prete) or the Battle of the Purple Shoe (mayhem erupted when a nasty tackle kicked off Pesari's Laghi's shoe, leading to five red cards). Another chapter was added recently with a match known as "Tumellero's folly", although few would have expected it to remain in collective memory under that moniker with a quarter of an hour still left on the clock. In the last ten direct confrontations, Pesari had only managed a solitary win, upping the stakes more than ever but the FC failed to make a fist. Catrallo Calcio, coming off a solid international appearance, quickly took the lead and strikes from Carmine Garofalo and Alberto Sgarbi put Pesari three behind. But then Tumellero decided to complete the humiliation by putting in the three most novice members of his squad: Lanchi, Ossi and Trepin. It is unfair to blame the youngsters for it, but the organisation fell apart with it and after a consolation goal from Lagrange, I Pappagalli smelled blood. In a chaotic match end, Murphy brought FC Pesari back in the game and with the referee already preparing for the final blow, Pier Luigi Vitali scored his first goal for his new club - immediately winning over the fans. Those celebrated the draw as if it were a win, putting their mind at ease about the continued streak. Oliviero Tumellero, on the other hand, admitted that he and no one else was to blame, a notable and rare dent in the reputation of the triple champion maker.

[San Ortelio]

14th of August
Cycling
Tre Valle Quarani

---

Men’s

 1 Marzio Pavarin (Fornittore Bettini)       3:46:08
 2 Damiano Lagani (Ravita)                   
 3 Giuseppe Bordon (Odiol - CycloMas)           0:02
 4 Marco Pasinato (Mattrazzi - VAL)             0:43
 5 Pietro Marangon (Banco Fenice - Pra)         1:15
 6 Leo Muraro (Ravita)                       
 7 Gaetano Brio (Mattrazzi - VAL)               1:50
 8 Giancarlo Beccalossi (Squadra Bartali)       1:52
 9 Antonio Verza (Odiol - CycloMas)             4:37
10 Luca Maronchini (Berettini)                  4:41

Women’s

 1 Ginevra Marazza (Odiol - CycloMas)        3:32:36
 2 Gaia Cianetti (Vino Ferruci)                 0:01
 3 Chiara Ugolini (Banco Fenice - Pra)          0:13
 4 Bianca Tiengo (Lacca)                        0:43
 5 Eva Bertoldi (Riva - Z)                   
 6 Gioia Barbareschi (Squadra Bartali)          0:47
 7 Martina Piccardi (Odiol - CycloMas)          0:49
 8 Carlotta Rubinacchi (Berettini)              1:29
 9 Sara Della Fave (Mattrazzi - VAL)            3:05
10 Cecilia Ervolino (Quaranta Assura)           6:11

---

“So, this is all?”

Mother never was one to beat around the bush - it’s the kind of luxury you cannot afford raising four children on a single wage. Ettore Bettini stroked his moustache, a gesture which I would later learn to interpret as a confirmation. I once more glanced over the figure Bettini had scribbled on a napkin. He had added a ‘,00’ at the end to make it look bigger but all three of us knew it was near to nothing. A man with a booming furniture business like Bettini - who looked awfully out of place in our cramped kitchen with the dim lights - knew well enough that I had an awful hand at this table. Over the past two months I had begged for a spot at eleven of the twelve teams with a ‘Full Pro License’, a permission which ensured their riders starting rights in the classics and the Giro. All but Bettini’s wouldn’t even consider adding a scrawny climber with a limited scroll of honour in the youth category but a reputation on his temper.

“I can’t put it on paper,” Bettini continued, “but in winter he can help a little in the moving business - when my regulars aren’t around. He can use a bit of extra muscle.”
“With this amount, only a fool wouldn’t deliver him to the next factory,” mother concluded.

Bettini rose, he had seen enough but just before he turned, he made a last remark.

“There is an additional note. With us, the primes you win are the ones you pocket. Good finishing spot, first on top of a mountain, intermediary sprints, … If you win it, it’s your cash. So it’s all about what you believe he can harvest. Let me know by tomorrow, I’ve got others vying for that spot.”

And with that, he grabbed his borsalino, nodded and left.

---

Riding my second Giro, I started to know the ropes and learn the trade. A small group had attacked at the start and still led by two minutes, but the largest climb from the day still awaited. The peak was fifty kilometres from the finish line, too far to be a springboard for the candidates for the general classification, but that didn’t matter to me. The mountain price looked good and our soigneur had mentioned to me that a local tradesman gave away fifty pounds of herring to the first one through the first town at the other side of the hill. With a little bump in the road approaching, I made my way to the front of the peloton and attacked on the right hand side.

It was still far from the finish line and considering the time lost in the opening two stages, I was no threat to the leader. Yet, immediately four men of his Ravita team sunk their teeth into my back wheel. Did they mistake me for someone else? A second attempt, quickly, was needed before the flat. Despite a few winters of moving cupboards and sofas, I remained one of the thinnest men from the group and when a journalist had coined the name ‘La Cavaletta’ (the Grasshopper), it had stuck. The Ravita riders did not just follow me again but overtook me and almost pushed me off the road. Needing to slow down, they passed me by, one by one, until silver jersey Damiano Lagani rode beside me. He looked me up and down as if I had smeared pig shit over my body before curtly noting.

“You’ve had your share, Cavaletta, I’ve decided it’s for someone else tonight.”

I was a bit stunned but wouldn’t let him get to me. Without a reply, I swung my bike to the other side of the road and did a third attempt, almost foolishly. A sharp whistle came through, as if Lagani released the dog on a particularly annoying slave. Edoardo Sorgo, one of his most loyal domestiques, caught up with me and without blinking, he elbowed me off course and into a field lined with barbed wire fencing. Between his teeth, Sorgo muttered something that I could only make out once I regained my consciousness.

“You’ll either have to get a lot smarter or a lot harder, Cavaletta.”

---

Somehow it became my fault. The public opinion was heavily disappointed in the lack of Ortelians in the top fifty of the result and a paper even called it the bankruptcy of our cycling culture, using words like “a facade for a lack of commitment and talent which marks this generation”. Going into the race, all had proclaimed Damiano Lagani to be the team leader but for some reason, the brunt of the blame fell to me. Was it due to Ravita’s close relationship with some publishers and editors? Or his dramatic fall on the limestone cobbles of Electrum, which offered him a chance to part the race like a bloodied martyr - even if he had already been dropped from the bunch at that point.

Be what it might, focus was on my person. I had not just failed to live up to the title of second-in-command but I had actively sabotaged efforts for Lagani, forcing him to ride earlier and more than expected. That was the, laughable, conclusion. I knew better. At a certain point, I positioned myself in the first bunch but when I looked back, it were the sky blue jerseys from Di Paoli and Lagani chasing. I couldn’t blame Di Paoli, just a young kid trying to make his mark. Then again, when the group broke in two again - with all of us behind the split, no less - he didn’t get the show on the road. It made me realise how fragile Lagani’s dominance back home was, how much he relied on the depth of his squad to set the pace in his favor. So yes, after the race I didn’t hide my frustration but somehow, I was seen as the one sabotaging things. It went so far that a few questioned my spot in the line-up - despite podiuming in the Giro, Tre Valle, GP San Mamerto ánd Trofeo Rossi-Valente (or, the four most difficult races in San Ortelio) in the last twelve months. A unique feat, but rather obscured due to a lack of victories. Indeed, my career was not lined up with trophies.

Yet.

---

“What's it going to be, Cavaletta, you just want the whole nation to hate you? Not even your mum will love you after this.”

Maybe he didn’t know it, but in my experience, Damiano Lagani was the sort of guy that knew perfectly well that mother had passed away a few weeks before the Olympics. His words carved my soul, but I remained firmly where I was, positioned in his wheel. The final incline was approaching, a windy, small climb to the eagle’s nest known as the hamlet of Premano. Whilst the town itself was not the place to receive a classic, the nasty, irregular climb at the end of a hard race suited the Tre Valle like a glove. The profile had the outlook of a rollercoaster, if said rollercoaster rose sharply. As had happened before in this one, the lion’s share of the race was not about who attacked the field but just about who could hang on. Ravita and Odiol determined the pace, letting only a group of fourteen turn up to the most iconic landmark of the race, the Muro Arancio, named after the characteristic brick wall which ran along it. Whilst the parcours of the Tre Valle changed almost every year, the Muro Arancio remained firmly placed in the final part of the race.

Today, it had once again done its job: at the foot, the last card in Ravita’s pack set a high pace. Leo Muraro knew his trade like no other and put everyone in the red from the foot onwards. Fourteen became twelve, twelve became eleven and suddenly, there were just eight left of us. A minor hand signal from Muraro allowed Lagani to drop his watts. I knew it was coming and followed. I'll never admit how hard it was. After a few hundred metres, Bordon managed to return to us. A gargantuan effort that made him look cooked but during a second of hesitation in the downhill, he escaped. Such a Bordon move, an old fox who refused to accept his age.

"Cavaletta, you're a coward, that's why you'll never be seen as a champion."

Theoretically, we both should chase, a part of my brain said. But the smart part, the stubborn part, refused.

---

"Four hundred metres left and it's still Bordon but the Assassin of Antiglia looks worn out. We're in the centre of Premano now where it flattens, Lagani! LAGANI! Damiano Lagani with another all-out effort and that's the end of the story for a battling Bordon but what's that, it's Pavarin. Marzio Pavarin, a man without sprint they say but he gets next to Lagani, they ogle each other both standing on the pedals, oh! It's Pavarin! It's Marzio Pavarin! No need for a finish photo, Pavarin wins his second Classic and does it with an unexpected explosion of power. Some critics will say he contributed near to nothing in the chase, letting Lagani do the work. But isn't the true champion marked by the interplay of brains and legs?"

[San Ortelio]

16-18th of August
Football
IFCF - Second Preliminary Round

---

Liga B Champions Trophy

Batchingtonwood Rovers FC (FVA) 3-2 Catrallo Athletic (SOR)
Juve Redoccio (SOR) 0-2 Inland Peaks (VIL)

Challengers Cup

Fagli Cinquanta (SOR) 2-1 Fligsive FC (EOT)
Virtus Redoccio (SOR) 2-0 Club ESF (VAL)
FC Pesari (SOR) 1-3 FK Arsika (MYT)

Champions League

Catrallo Calcio (SOR) 3-1 FK Vselitamak (PYA)

---

A Tale of Two Redoccios?

Despite the last sunbeams making their way to the main stand, which coincidentally also was the only stand, the atmosphere in the small stadium of Juve Redoccio was cold and nearly depressing. The ticket office hadn't been able to spread around a thousand tickets, despite receiving one of the most prestigious names that could possibly come out of the draw: the Vilitans of Inland Peaks were not only perennial names in this competition but also appear in one of the most prestigious and popular second tiers of the multiverse, the Declasse. Nonetheless, few felt attracted to a night out with Juve. If you squint your eyes, you could spot in the distance the floodlights of the main cause for that. The much larger neighbour Virtus was receiving Club ESF - an opponent that had a Globe Cup to its name, making it a very attractive fixture this early in the competition.

Ercole Bossoni overlooked it all in pain, but tried to keep a smile on his face as he greeted practically every man and woman at the ground. He knew most of them by name. It was difficult to pinpoint his role in a personnel chart but after two decades, he was both the one who everyone listened to and the one who mowed the youth team fields. If he would ever pass away, which for Juve was hopefully decades away, the grieving crowd would proclaim that they were burying the man who embodied the club. It was no exaggeration to say that without Bossoni's tireless efforts, Juve would not be making its international debut tonight. And still, somehow, the big rival that loomed over their existence had found a way to rain over their parade.

As the club cantú reverberated over the pitch - the poor quality of the sound system undoubtedly raising a few Vilitan eyebrows - Bossoni took a long look at the eleven. Compared to the opposition, they barely appeared as footballers. Most of them were on the wrong side of thirty and since Valentin Spinesi, the exciting top talent, had left for Fagli, the few youngsters mainly stuck around because they lacked the skills for a higher tier. In the Serie Interregionale, their grit and craft sufficed - in this game, it would not. Bossoni took a long, deep breath and finally walked up to the potentially most important man in the stands. It was hard to miss him, over his velvet tuxedo and gold necklace. Paolo Frattini nonetheless managed to pull off the combination with some flair. Owner of a series of theatres, Frattini always had been a known and notorious figure but a seven-year stint at the helm of Virtus had only raised his profile. He enjoyed, in his own words, "the story of a match" and found the business part "a bit of a nuisance".

"Mister Frattini, I am honoured to welcome you in our humble sta-"
"Yadayadayada, Ercole. I didn't know you invited me to a funeral. Look at this. Just, look at this!"

The mascot in his worn-out suit, the stench from the hotdog stand, the off-colour boardings, … Bossoni looked at it as if he had never seen them before.

"That's why I invited you, mister Frattini."

The game itself was one-directional. Inland Peaks could have won by five or six but showed mercy upon the hosts whilst goalie Ferri played notably well. Bossoni had little to share, so he and Fratelli watched it in silence. At the last whistle, Frattini rose.

"Ercole, I have always respected you. But give me one good reason."

The moment of silence coincided with a cold gust of wind.

"You've ruled over Virtus for seven years," Bossoni started, "and now Odiol is in charge for half of that and most already forgot your tenure. If you make Juve a big club, your name will be on the entrance gate, not just next year but for a century."

A pause.

"Ok. Ok. First steps, get rid of that godawful hot dog stand and you let me change the club colors to something more joyful."

Bossoni was the only Juve fan to leave the ground with a smile

[San Ortelio]

20-21st of August
Football
Serie Nazionale - MD3

---

Results

Esca Unione 0–1 Inter Catrallo
SSD Borgonovo 0–3 Virtus Redoccio
Fagli Cinquanta 0–0 Pro Stampano
Catrallo Calcio 1–0 Sportiva Montelcampo
US San Savola 0–2 FC Pesari
Robur Astello 0–0 FC Orsi

Table

Serie Nazionale          Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
 1 Catrallo Calcio         3    2   1   0     6    4   +2     7
 2 Inter Catrallo          3    2   1   0     2    0   +2     7
 3 Virtus Redoccio         3    2   0   1     4    1   +3     6
 4 FC Pesari               3    1   2   0     6    4   +2     5
 5 Pro Stampano            3    1   1   1     3    1   +2     4
 6 Sportiva Montelcampo    3    1   1   1     5    4   +1     4
 7 US San Savola           3    1   1   1     1    2   −1     4
 8 Robur Astello           3    0   3   0     0    0    0     3
 9 Esca Unione             3    1   0   2     1    2   −1     3
10 Fagli Cinquanta         3    0   2   1     2    4   −2     2
11 FC Orsi                 3    0   1   2     1    3   −2     1
12 SSD Borgonovo           3    0   1   2     2    8   −6     1

---

"Good job, boys, good job."

Vsevolod Bogolyubsky suspected a large chunk of cynicism from the gaffer Belletti after a goalless home draw against one of the direct opponents for relegation. When, after a few seconds, it became clear that he had been one hundred percent genuine, Vsevolod realized that this was worse.

"Keep up the good work, Vsevo," the coach even added, patting his back as he walked past.

Vsevolod felt as if he could throw his shoes through the wall which shielded the showers. Another ninety minutes of playing a bland flavor of football, barely creating any danger. Yes, they had managed three clean sheets as well with Robur but who on earth played football for clean sheets? As if he could hear his thoughts, goalie Yuri Scampini grinned in his direction.

"This season is magic!" Yuri laughed.

The man was mad as a badger. Vsevolod played with him for a year now and had seen some majestic saves - but also when the goalie hit someone with his own shoe on a corner, when he roundhouse kicked a supporter and when he made a two-footed tackle on the opposing half. The crowd adored him. He was a key member of the 'Chaingang', a reference to the black-and-white striped outfit of the club. They were made up of local players, guys who wouldn't be contracted anywhere else. Upon his arrival, at the first training, they had all tried to kick Vsevolod off the pitch. The young striker managed to evade their tackles and didn't complain - in part due to the language barrier - and since they had accepted him as a member of the team.

This time in July, the newcomer had been Tikariotian Ernest Garrison. After a second tackle from Martorelli, Garrison had gotten his revenge when he elbowed his opponent on a corner. The 'Chaingang' laughed and applauded, even the bloodied Martorelli. It had given Vsevolod Bogolyubsky hope for a new era for the club, especially as a new coach would try to get them out of the relegation swamp, sacrificing the traditional five-man defense for a more modern 4-4-2 variant.

How wrong had he been. Belletti interpreted the scheme by forbidding his four backs to cross the halfway line. In midfield, there was skill with the experienced Bryger, his best friend Petor Szektkovsky and Garrison but all three were employed in a holding position. Bogolyubsky was paired up with a rotating cast: Carannante got an A for effort but failed for everything football-related; D'Annunzio had potential but also a penchant for red wine and Ugo Cianci used to be decent, but only few could remember when. This wasn't old news, but nobody acted upon it. With all that, Vsevolod sometimes wondered whether he should stay. When he returned to the national team, he heard stories from all over the multiverse - there must be tons of other places to play football. It's not that he was wasting his own time - everyone noted how much strength he had gained, which hunger for the ball - but this club seemed so pleased with the dead end in which they were running.

Vsevolod often wondered whether he should stay.

But never when walking in town. Despite watching a horrendous side, the fans were raving mad about them. Sometimes Vsevolod dined in Astello with Yegor Uralets, the young compatriot who was on the books with Virtus. They never needed to pay. A Robur supporter would rather go broke than charge a player. Everyone wanted to talk football, discuss opponents, appreciate his work rate. That he had netted only seven times last year - a number which Vsevolod considered as insufficient - was not seen as a point by anyone. 'So was the first year of Gozzi as well', they said and patted his shoulder one more time. They were bonkers and sometimes in the best way. Three boys had been born in Astello with the name Sevo, after him. Another one got less lucky and would have to put 'Vsevolod Di Martino' on all his paperwork till eternity.

"Don't worry, Vsevo," Bryger tried to cheer him up, noticing the gloomy atmosphere from his young teammate, "the goals will come."

'Stallion' Bryger - a nickname given to him by Madonna Nottori fans of all genders - still made the most miles in each match but his age made him a caretaker in the dressing room, especially to the foreign guys.

"What," Vsevolod confessed, "what if they don't?"

The Brenecian thought for a second, then grinned.

"In that case, we will consider attacking."

[San Ortelio]

20-21st of August
Waterpolo
Lega Pallanuoto Nationale - MD13

---

Results

Stampano ANC 10–5 Astello Mare
Neptunus Pollagno 7–6 PN Catrallo
FARPE 5–11 Focarsane
Stella Anezzo 9–12 Barceglie Club
Pesari Pescadores 13–6 Tridente Toccagno

Table

Lega Pallanuoto N        Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
 1 Stampano ANC           13    9   3   1   122   85  +37    30
 2 Pesari Pescadores      13    9   1   3   121   83  +38    28
 3 Barceglie Club         13    8   4   1   114   98  +16    28
 4 Focarsane              13    7   2   4   106  100   +6    23
 5 Neptunus Pollagno      13    6   3   4   103  106   −3    21
 6 Astello Mare           13    6   1   6    99  108   −9    19
 7 Stella Anezzo          13    4   1   8    97  111  −14    13
 8 Tridente Toccagno      13    3   2   8   102  118  −16    11
 9 PN Catrallo            13    3   1   9    92  103  −11    10
10 FARPE                  13    1   0  12    85  129  −44     3

---

Alessio Quaranta looked at his bench, but it had more acne than potential. Then again, being five points down, what on earth would the difference be when he threw in a youngster eager for seconds in the highest tier. The FARPE coach decided to keep his same players in the water and together with them, he bowed his head when Focarsane powered the eleventh and final goal past 19-year old goalkeeper Valle. Another heavy loss, but it became painfully regular. What was worse was that it was the predicted outcome of the off-season.

At the start of the Lega, FARPE had been one of the driving forces. A young and enthused club originating from a merger from two historically rooted organisations, making them the focal point of the sport in Redoccio. When held over the baptism font, dreams about national titles were spoken aloud and in the opening seasons of the LPN, this ambition had been held alive. At one point, the club had come within two games of the coveted title but eventually, the Pescadores were too strong. Ever after, things had petered out, in a way.

Last season, the club had bookended the table but as no club in the second tier matched the requirements for the Lega, they were allowed to stay. In theory, that should be a gift but those in the know knew it was a poisoned chalice. Some of the better players were poached by clubs with more stature, the ones with potential who wanted to stay could no longer be afforded. The coach left for a 'more interesting project' and the assistant followed his footsteps. One morning, Alessio had been the only one left of the coaching staff and got promptly promoted to head coach. He had one major advantage: as the previous U19 coach, he was well acquainted with the majority of the current first team. There was no need to sugarcoat it, he knew this was an impossible task.

Yet, FARPE started the season properly and even grabbed a narrow victory after three weeks. All members of the press were aware of the limitations of the youngsters, rather lauding their energy and Missaglia's inventiveness. A few of the kiddo's grew over and above themselves. Despite it all, the neophyte gaffer had managed to bring a positive atmosphere around the club.

It didn't last.

During the summer recess, Astello Mare seduced their biggest prodigy, Oriani, with some money. It was no goldmine but FARPE paid the exact required Lega minimum so one and one added up. Missaglia did all he could to keep up the spirit but last week, the house of cards collapsed. They were two points up against direct opponent PN Catrallo when Marcello Brassi got smacked in the face. The veteran linchpin, vital in steering the youngsters, could not continue. Catrallo smelled not only literal blood and overtook them in the last few minutes. As soon as Missaglia entered the dressing room after the match, he noticed from the silence that something had cracked.

Thank god that Focarsane wasn't even trying hard. Let's hope that the remaining five opponents felt the same. And - although Alessio would never dare to say that aloud - that some side in the second tier dared to make the leap up.

[San Ortelio]

20-21st of August
Rowing
National Championships

---

Men’s Single Sculls

1 Luigi Troglio             7:25.08
2 Alex Missaglia            7:29.03
3 Salvatore Zinetti         7:42.25
4 Iacopo Bosi               7:47.83
5 Angelo Incocciati         7:47.99
6 Marco Mancuso             7:51.49

Men’s Double Sculls

1 Chiossi/Chiossi           6:27.13
2 Zanoni/Pison              6:27.39
3 Gualandi/Bonciani         6:30.52
4 Ghedini/Oddo              6:31.48
5 Filesi/Di Marco           6:31.99
6 Montanari/Seghetti        6:39.97

Men’s Lightweight Double Sculls

1 Fanelli/Bonomi            6:22.39
2 Baiocchi/Di Antonio       6:28.10
3 Giordani/Monaldi          6:39.48
4 Colli/Pompei              6:41.29
5 Lattanzi/Lattanzi         6:41.39
6 Celani/Poli               6:42.54

Men’s Quadruple Sculls

1 Delta                     5:42.19
2 RC Redoccio               5:44.62
3 Foro Educationale         5:52.08
4 Capita                    5:54.31
5 Politecnica               5:54.74
6 Barceglie 4               5:55.31

Women’s Single Sculls

1 Alessandra Scanziani      7:45.52
2 Carla Paolucci            7:47.50
3 Simona Suelotta           8:02.36
4 Francesca Scorsa          8:11.22
5 Monica Boldini            8:12.08
6 Adelina Moro              8:28.61

Women’s Double Sculls

1 Maestri/Capriotti         7:09.03
2 Dabesi/Carrara            7:10.89
3 Paolucci/Pagliacci        7:12.78
4 Pison/Valentini           7:16.17
5 Salvato/Salvato           7:23.52
6 Moro/Scorsa               7:24.10

Women’s Lightweight Double Sculls

1 Venturelli/Caruso         7:07.29
2 Mattarucchi/Andreotti     7:07.63
3 Persico/Persico           7:11.79
4 Capriotti/Ronchi          7:17.27
5 Gambin/Gambin             7:31.62
6 Baronti/Ferrini           7:38.73

Women’s Quadruple Sculls

1 Politecnica               6:19.01
2 RC Redoccio               6:26.43
3 Escola Enseigna           6:26.48
4 Catrallo Nautica          6:33.03
5 Foro Educationale         6:35.85
6 Delta                     6:46.29

---

"Ok, so you're sure it won't be today. Ok. I'll send when… Yes."

Filippo Bonomi looked at the scene in front of him with a mocking smile on his lips. On the water, Angelo Fanelli knew the direction exceptionally well but outside of it, he was kept at a tight leash by his wife Carla. It went without saying that Filippo and her mixed like water and oil, but it amused him that she too - despite being about to give birth to their first - recognised the importance of tonight for Angelo. Maybe she wasn't that bad for him after all, Filippo thought as he ordered another round of beers. For months they had sacrificed a lot, first for the Olympics and after the hangover of the result, for the National Championships so now they could unwind without counting calories.

"To a career well spent," Fanelli proclaimed before downing half of the lager.

With three Regatta di San Vigilio's, four national titles and an - after the dust had settled - notable appearance at the Olympics, this afternoon one of the most successful and prolific rowing combinations of San Ortelio had called it a day in style. Baiocci and Di Antonio had made it a proper race but in the end the gap between the winning duo and the opposition was sizable.

"No regrets?" Filippo informed.
"Well," Angelo hesitated for a second, "maybe if I had all the money in the world. But now… the little one is on its way, it is time for a new chapter."

Fanelli's dire financial situation had hung over their ambitions like the sword of Damocles as they took a gap year for the Games. At last, his work had caught the attention of a shipping company and he had landed a job - nothing spectacular but a good starting position for his career. With it, he had decided to call it a day in the rowing boat.

"Yes," Angelo reinforced himself, "it has been a great run so… And besides, that insulation company won't run itself."

Filippo nodded thoughtfully. He had been dealt a great hand in life and his father - a tycoon when it came to building materials - had reserved a spot at the helm of one of the holdings for the day his son grew tired of sports.

"And après nous, la déluge," Filippo grinned, tipping his glass against Angelo's before downing it. "Unless…"

They both had noticed the deplorable state of the field at the championships. None of the other Olympians had won gold, but not really due to exceptional performances from opponents. From a purely athletic point of view, the sport was at a low in our quarters and interest had been poorer than ever. The lack of depth in some races was painful to see.

"Unless what?"
"Unless some mad industrialist pumped a bit of cash in the sport. Gave some of those students first of all an incentive to aim for more than just Regatta success and secondly the proper guidance in doing so rather than some doctoral student shouting abuse from the side."

Angelo looked into the boyish face of the man who he, initially, had feared but who had in time become his very best friend.

"Where… Where will you find such a mad industrialist?"
"Let's say," another devilish grin, "I know some folks in the insulation business."

Slowly, Angelo shook his head. People from the outside always saw his buddy as an airhead, the muscles of the combination with a loaded parent to guide him through life. However, their studies together at Politecnica had taught Angelo something different - a keen plan like this was just the thing for Filippo.

"Which made me wonder…" Bonomi continued, "how sick and tired you've gotten from the Baia. Whether you had your share or…"
"No," Angelo had to stop the daydreaming, "I'm not going to train like that again. With the kid and the new job and I promised Carla I wou-"
"Sure," Filippo raised his hand, "but you'll never again be allowed to sit near a rowing boat?"

By now, Angelo had no clue anymore where this would be going towards.

"It is just, a good talented crew needs someone who leads them, a coach. Preferably an Olympian of some sort, for whom a budget is foreseen so he shouldn't be spending his Saturdays at the side of the Baia just for jackshit…"

No words were needed as the two exchanged a wide grin. Up until this very second, Angelo never had thought of himself as a coach but suddenly it was all he ever wanted to be.

"And you, Filippo? Just the role of bankrolling magnate?"

"No," came the surprising and uncharacteristically serious answer, "I've got unfinished business with the Olympics."

It was to be a late night as they discussed everything, from funding and focus till training methods and who would be allowed in. They had quickly settled on Antonio Baiocci as the right counterpart for Fanelli for a new successful duo. Looking for others, the two had little regard for their fellow Olympians, who seemed untouched by their elimination but rather focussed on discovering every alcoholic beverage under the Electrumite sun. By the end of their discussion, Angelo and Filippo had settled on a shortlist whom they would puzzle on their willingness to join the project: some fresh title holders as Luigi Troglio and the Chiossi nephews, but also young talent such as Carla Paolucci, Amaia Capriotti and Angelica Persico.

It was a line-up that ignored existing partnerships and every traditional rift between the different educational institutes. But more than ever, the two knew it was the only way out of the crisis and into the light for Ortelian rowing.

[San Ortelio]

23-25th of August
Football
IFCF - Second Preliminary Round

---

Liga B Champions Trophy

Catrallo Athletic (SOR) 0-2 Batchingtonwood Rovers FC (FVA)
Inland Peaks (VIL) 2-0 Juve Redoccio (SOR)

Challengers Cup

Fligsive FC (EOT) 1-1 Fagli Cinquanta (SOR)
Club ESF (VAL) 0-4 Virtus Redoccio (SOR)
FK Arsika (MYT) 2-2 FC Pesari (SOR)

Champions League

FK Vselitamak (PYA) 0-1 Catrallo Calcio (SOR)

---

A thunderous applause from the live audience, guests and host rolls on for nearly a minute before Claudia Ragghi regains the attention with a hand signal. As the new kid on the block, she gets to do the show around the Challengers Cup duels whilst her more grizzled colleague gets the Champions League duels from Catrallo Calcio. But tonight it seems Claudia has drawn the long straw, even if Il Capo dei Capi won with flair at the field of FK Vselitamak, via a goal from Moreschini.

"Dare I say that tonight, we've witnessed the single most impressive result from an Ortelian team in the IFCF?" she opens the debate.
"Yes! What a magical display! If Marshall deserved a ten at Villa Farnese, then he should get a twelve out of ten tonight!"

Umberto Chicci, formerly a technical Virtus midfielder and back on the radar after a dark period in his life, is with reason a welcome guest in these kinds of shows. He's no tactical ace, but he's passionate about the game and blurts his opinions whilst remaining amicable and positive.

"I think that's a conclusion at the moment: Calcio in the group stage beating Soldarian, Pesari winning on the road to CA Paulinthal or even the Astograthian night of Fagli and Sportiva, … Some of those results were from my point of view achieved in tougher confrontations."

Ah, what would a show on Telesport be without Enzo Sense to rain on the parade. Slightly cynical but usually on the ball, the former Robur, Inter and Nottori coach adds a bit of prudency to every debate (and line-up).

"Still," Claudia adds, "a four-goal victory on the road versus a former Globe Cup winner. We all expected Redoccio to focus on hanging on to their lead after that stellar first game but this? What made tonight possible?"
"Two things," Umberto insists, "two things every winning side needs. Firstly, there is a clear plan from a coach who has the dressing room in his hand. You see how well everyone knows what to do, whose spot to pick up, … Romero created confidence among the players, they give that pass without looking because they know their mate will make that extra mile. Secondly, individuals excelling in this game. We can't go around Bryant Marshall who was everywhere and really dictated the game. Two assists, one marvellous game and zero flaws. Stellar. But there was also Boldizsar Zsinko who loves these international nights, kudos to Evacuo who keeped at his best level, … I can keep on giving names!"
"It helped," Enzo notices, "that they really made that underdog position into an advantage. Some sides crumble in that mindset to hold the fort. Tonight, they got in the head of ESF - you could see the pressure on them, finally returning to the big stage after more than a decade of relegations and League One. Club ESF took risks, got caught out on an excellently executed counter and then it started to fall apart: wingers getting out of position, people compensating and before you know it, it was uncharacteristic chaos."
"Is that a signal that Virtus is even favourites with Catrallo Calcio? Fifth victory in a row with twelve goals scored and a fourth consecutive clean sheet," Claudia notes, "these are heavenly stats."

Umberto nods enthusiastically and with a wide grin, but Enzo remains calm and collected.

"Titles are never won in August. Some can be lost then, but they are never won then. But that doesn't diminish the performance against a great historical name in football," he hastily adds.
"Speaking of historical names, we just heard that the last whistle sounded at the Flynn Arena and Fagli will continue in the Challengers Cup, another mighty performance."
"Where does it end for Valentin Spinesi?" Umberto asked, "Another game, another top class game from the youngster. In just one year, this has become his team, his eleven who do everything for him. I am so curious which path he will take: will he be bought by the Big Three or will he hone La Fa till that term is mooth? Or maybe, after matches like this, some major competition picks him up?"
"Whilst another good campaign, not just in results but also to attract enthusiasm, it is fair to say that this Fligsive FC is not yet the Atlantian Oceanian powerhouse it used to be. We saw it last year when Virtus eliminated them and now Fagli does it, after a difficult second half in which it could have been more for Greaves' side than one Duffy goal."
"They do start to see Ortelians as their black cat, by now."

A grin and some banter, a bit too chummy considering the close escape from La Fa.

"No three out of three, Pesari worked no miracles in Mytannia but can they leave the tournament with their heads up high, Umberto?"
"It feels mixed, I must say. If you look at the draw and you compare the name of Arsika to the other ones, you're like 'lucky Pesari'. But it's a very smart side that Kitanchev built there and they get results. I adore that Arzhentinski fellow there in midfield, he was a force at Stadio del Fiume already but also today. Falling to this Arsika is no shame."
"What should give hope to Bentum is that her squad played starting from their own strengths at Novi Zavej Park and still got an honourable draw. Or is that a bit too easy, Enzo?"
"It's good for the growth of the team, that's sure. Another Murphy goal, Quintarelli and Albertoni really where it's at in midfield, continued trust in the partnership between Collins and Corriere, a good twenty minutes by Urdampiyeta, … All things that Bentum wants to see more of, so you think this was a growing experience. And maybe it was. But we did see Tosi, so good in the previous rounds, again in the back pocket of his opponent and with him at half speed, it is hard to win. Was this just Lorenzo Il Magnifico hitting his limits or the game plan not being flexible enough to give him what he needs? Some could say both and in that case, this might be the sacrifice Bentum was willing to make. Let's see how Tosi takes it as he didn't seem fully satisfied with his substitution."

[San Ortelio]

27-28th of August
Waterpolo
Lega Pallanuoto Nationale - MD14

---

Results

Astello Mare 9–5 Pesari Pescadores
Tridente Toccagno 11–6 Stella Anezzo
Barceglie Club 11–7 FARPE
Focarsane 8–10 Neptunus Pollagno
PN Catrallo 9–12 Stampano ANC

Table

Lega Pallanuoto Nat.     Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
 1 Stampano ANC           14   10   3   1   134   94  +40    33
 2 Barceglie Club         14    9   4   1   125  105  +20    31
 3 Pesari Pescadores      14    9   1   4   126   92  +34    28
 4 Neptunus Pollagno      14    7   3   4   113  114   −1    24
 5 Focarsane              14    7   2   5   114  110   +4    23
 6 Astello Mare           14    7   1   6   108  113   −5    22
 7 Tridente Toccagno      14    4   2   8   113  124  −11    14
 8 Stella Anezzo          14    4   1   9   103  122  −19    13
 9 PN Catrallo            14    3   1  10   101  115  −14    10
10 FARPE                  14    1   0  13    92  140  −48     3

Gabriele nervously fiddles the top button of his shirt. He bloody hates the thing but mother said it is the least he could do - as if those nice people at Pesari were to depend the numbers upon how shiny his shoes were. This morning she also pushed him into his car as if Pesari is on another continent and now he's here. Twenty-five minutes early. There wasn't even anyone manning the reception of the small headquarters of Pesari Pescadores, but it's quite obvious where the club manager can be found: a large whiteboard at the end of the hallway with tactical scribbles tells Gabs what he needs to know and with a calm step and a rattling heart, he bridges the seemingly endless distance.

It's not a long drive from Astello to here but every mile away from his hometown makes this feel more like treason. Gabriele Carletti grew up in a tiny apartment smack-bang between the Robur football training grounds and the sea. The former was his first love but as injuries forced him to hit the water, he conversed. In style. With the Olympics appearing on the horizon, rumor has it that Carletti is first choice for an appearance on goal. If he walks to practice, there is always someone familiar, making conversations or just sending their regards. The only salute received on his ride to Pesari was a one-armed one. But still - sometimes a man has got to do what a man has got to do. Especially one with depths.

Should he knock? Gabriele knows he's way too early and the door is closed. Behind it, voices are having a lively but unclear discussion. It is only after a minute, in which Gabriele found a position that's in equal parts casual and uncomfortable leaning against the only blind wall, that the murmurs and sounds blend into words.

"...does he know? He's just a hillbilly. An urban one, but that mentality."
"We could use him."
"Of course, on goal he's all we need. As long as he keeps himself limited to that and doesn't start to think."
"The boys will keep him shut, I'm sure. Just work, donkey!"

The laughs are boisterous and bounce off the blind wall.

"So, let me see. Hm."
"It's less a month than all the current starters and most of the bench but…"
"But?"
"I know for a fact it's more than what he earns with Astello - a bunch of beggars there. He'll sign it."
"It's already too much for a failed football goalie."

Again those laughs, nearly too comic-like to really come across as human.

"Isn't he there yet?"

The manager's office door opens and a serious looking head pops out, checking into an empty hallway.

"Not yet. He better not be late, we can't do anything with a bonehead with attitude."

---

"Time is running out, the Pescadores are throwing their full weight in the attack now. 7-5 still in the advantage of a stubborn Astello Mare but they refuse to bend, let alone break. Captain Paolo Beretti of Pesari tries to force it, hacks his way through on goal and oooh! It's another Carletti save! What a game is he having, he just cannot get beaten! Only five goals from the Pescadores so far, it's been a while since… 8-5! On the counterattack! But as I was saying, what a stellar match from Gabriele Carletti!"

The interviewer checks one last time if he's on air before launching his opening question.

"Gabriele, last week, quite the display tonight against the number two in the table - what can you tell us about it?”
“I know it’s an overused phrase but tonight really was the result of teamwork. I think everyone played to their best level and then we can do a lot.”
“Some might notice it’s a bit of contrast with last week, when ANC dominated the proceedings.”
“Yes, but you know - many of our key players are young. On some occasions, that means that they’ll struggle, that they will make mistakes. But we are learning from it.”
“You also had a great game - dare I say it was a bit of revenge?”
“In which sense?”
“Well, after the fairly unsuccessful Olympics, some people started to question every starter. Including you?”
“No, that didn’t play a role tonight. I get my motivation elsewhere.”

[San Ortelio]

27-28th of August
Football
Serie Nazionale - MD4

---

Results

Inter Catrallo       1–0              FC Orsi
FC Pesari            1–0        Robur Astello
Sportiva Montelcampo 3–0        US San Savola
Pro Stampano         0–2      Catrallo Calcio
Virtus Redoccio      2–2      Fagli Cinquanta
Esca Unione          1–0        SSD Borgonovo

Table

Serie Nazionale          Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
 1 Catrallo Calcio         4    3   1   0     8    4   +4    10
 2 Inter Catrallo          4    3   1   0     3    0   +3    10
 3 FC Pesari               4    2   2   0     7    4   +3     8
 4 Sportiva Montelcampo    4    2   1   1     8    4   +4     7
 5 Virtus Redoccio         4    2   1   1     6    3   +3     7
 6 Esca Unione             4    2   0   2     2    2    0     6
 7 Pro Stampano            4    1   1   2     3    3    0     4
 8 US San Savola           4    1   1   2     1    5   −4     4
 9 Robur Astello           4    0   3   1     0    1   −1     3
10 Fagli Cinquanta         4    0   3   1     4    6   −2     3
11 FC Orsi                 4    0   1   3     1    4   −3     1
12 SSD Borgonovo           4    0   1   3     2    9   −7     1

---

Man of the Match Awards - powered by Choco Drillo

Franco Gualdi - FC Orsi * Indeed, a player of the losing side but in a tactical chess game as this one, the right-back was one of the few who gave the poor souls known as paying customers a bit for their money. Apart from executing his defensive tasks, there were a handful of fine crosses into the box - the best one volleyed wide by Volpe. Shows why some whisper his name for the NT selection. That might be a bit too much honour but FC Orsi is not yet the end station for the former plumber.

Lorenzo Tosi - FC Pesari * I Pappagalli continue their (domestic) unbeaten draw, Robur goalie Scampini has to turn around for the first time and Bentum sees her work grow harder:  it's all in one man. As expected, Astello turned this into an unbearable match but 'Lorenzo Il Magnifico' showed what he is made of after the midweek elimination at the hands of FK Arsika. Technical mastery, a freak pass to put Lagrange in front of an empty goal and a pointing celebratory finger (a regular one, don't worry) to the bench.

Luca Cadili - Sportiva Montelcampo * Rafa Hythewater's US San Savola might not be an attractive opponent but is a sturdy one, which makes Sportiva's dominant home display all the more impressive. The Robins struggled with inconsistency so far but tonight Von's side clicked with the prolific winger Cadili as star player. Zungri, Payne and Biancu were passed left and right by him and his thrilling goal even got the hands together from the visiting fans. With Pambianco still looking for his first appearance on the scoreboard and Swyripa happy to play second violin, Cadili is the attack leader who could steer the team to the IFCF.

Alberto Sgarbi - Catrallo Calcio * So far, Sgarbi made the headlines with his speeding court case, an affair with a stewardess after an IFCF away fixture and an interview snippet on how "Tumellero has the easiest job in the bizz, anyone could do it". Luckily for him, the gaffer isn't vengeful and Oliviero Tumellero knows well enough that his maverick midfielder can turn a difficult away fixture into a solid win. With Salvatori again out with his long lasting hamstring injury, Sgarbi calls the shots for Calcio - not a great thing for the board, but the crowd loves it.

Yannis Kinsella - Fagli Cinquanta * In his third season with La Fa, Kinsella wears the captain's ribbon and does it with pride - there is reason why Mario Anza always mentions that if Kinsella would've been Ortelian, he would have had caps galore. In the most amusing confrontation of the weekend, Kinsella showed his arsenal of possibilities: not the pass from Alexander, the industriousness of Tao or the genius from Spinesi but the Tikariotian army knife who keeps his team together and strong in this difficult opening streak of the season.

Lenpi-Xelez Roz - Esca Unione * When confronted ahead of the year with the fun fact that a quarter of his teammates are half his age or less, Roz shared a big grin and noted that "they're also just half as good". Whilst in jest, it is a fact that after four weeks, Roz made the difference between a mild panic and a top six start with his second goal, a characteristically clever tap-in. With the Walrus Tebaldi still recovering, the phlegmatic Qusmi single handedly protects new man on the block Gabriele Tozzuolo from a rough start in the post-Delphi era.

[San Ortelio]

27-28th of August
Rugby Sevens
Preseason La Cinqua Sevens Festival

---

Round One
Santa Sofia    19–21  San Bonifazio
San Pancrazio  26–15   San Servazio

Round Two
San Bonifazio  35–12  San Pancrazio
San Mamerto    26–14    Santa Sofia

Round Three
San Pancrazio  35–7     San Mamerto
San Servazio   12–22  San Bonifazio

Round Four
San Mamerto    17–19   San Servazio
Santa Sofia    14–26  San Pancrazio

Round Five
San Servazio   14–26    Santa Sofia
San Bonifazio  19–17    San Mamerto

La Cinqua 7s           Pld   W  D  L   PF  PA  PD  Pts 
1 San Bonifazio          4   4  0  0   97  60 +37   16
2 San Pancrazio          4   3  0  1   99  71 +28   12
3 Santa Sofia            4   1  0  3   73  87 −14    4
4 San Mamerto            4   1  0  3   67  87 −20    4
5 San Servazio           4   1  0  3   60  91 −31    4

---

Rifts across the Board

How we would have loved to write a commentary about Daniele Carcano, the veteran wing who delivered his San Bonifazio a third consecutive La Cinqua 7s in a thrilling edition of the little brother of one of our nation’s longest-running sports competitions. Under the leadership of Carcano, the green-and-white lived a rollercoaster of emotions - from the difficult start against Santa Sofia, the dominant display to beat challengers San Pancrazio all the way up to the surprisingly tight victory vis-a-vis against perennial underdog San Ma’ to seal the Grand Slam. Whilst sevens and union are quite obviously not the same, it sets the tone ahead of La Cinqua proper - San Bo’ is ready to challenge.

Or maybe it could and should have been about the continuing demise of the Di Basco nephews. Currently holding the keys of the San Servazio selection, they landed a last-place finish, the first one for the region in eighteen years. Wide and beyond, there was criticism for Stefano Di Basco, the anticipated leader of the Bulls who played abysmally, continuing his streak from the latter part of the AVBF. As happened in Neu Engollon, things collapsed infuriatingly fast with the stamina and professionalism of the captain under siege: at no point he looked like the man who steered the Spada to an Olympic bronze. It goes without saying that with the kick-off of La Cinqua six weeks away, there is still vast room for improvement for Di Basco, but his side will start under this bad omen.

However, around the pitch at Parco Centenario, the rowdiest and fiercest discussions were delivered on the position and future of the FeNRO, the Federazione Nationale di Rugby Orteliano. Whilst most sports bolster a strong and independent national overseer of their national competitions, the FeNRO never was much more than the plaything of the regional puppeteers. Given the official guardianship of club rugby, this was always kept as the ugly duckling to ensure that full light shone on La Cinqua, the pearl to the crown of domestic rugby.

And it would be biased not to applaud the accomplishments made by this arrangement in the past: La Cinqua grew into one of the most recognisable and followed domestic events. The long-standing feuds between the regions, the majestic traditions and the relaxed atmosphere off the field turned it into a household name, making many Ortelians followers of the sport for three months each year. Undermining La Cinqua would not just be a stain to Ortelian sports, but also to the community that was built around it. However, with this stick to beat any opposition, the regions kept the leash tight and minimized every criticism. Even worse, they were glad to use it as a vehicle to allow a lack of creativity and professionalism when it came to building the sport beyond. As a result, Daniele Carcano must be San Ortelio's most recognised sporter... in the category of pure amateurs who don't make a dime. If not to him, to whom the sponsor contract incomes for the flagship tournament go?

The discussion is one of old, with newcomers coming and going - quite often frustrated that their attempts were of no avail. Last week, however, recently appointed director Guardi placed a proverbial bomb under the organisation with a casual and seemingly premature announcement of a semi-professional tier for sevens rugby. Said proposal would contain a spring series of Sevens tournaments aimed at an international audience with players from across the wider region, pitting newly created franchises against one another. Whilst the idea clearly required future honing, it held value with its focus on players payment and the expansion of the rugby season, surfing on the post-Olympic wave of enthusiasm.

Three days later, the regional board which oversees the works from the FeNRO gave Guardi his marching orders, much to the dismay of the latter. Guardi announced in the immediate slipstream of his dismissal that this would not be the end of what he christened as the ‘Ortelian Sevens Series’ but being effectively placed offside, there is doubt which next steps are possible for him. Fact is that the whole episode leaves a bitter taste in the collective mouth: from the amateuristic communication from the director, over the draconian reply from the regional board all the way till the painful status quo. In the rapidly professionalising Ortelian sports scene, the question remains whether rugby as a sport will remain capable of attracting young and enthused athletes. The desired change once again will not be for tomorrow - and the question is whether there is still that much time on the clock.

[San Ortelio]

30th of August - 1st of September
Football
IFCF - Third Preliminary Round

---

Liga B Champions Trophy

Goodfeather (NPH) 1-2 Vittorio Club Pesari (SOR)

Challengers Cup

Fagli Cinquanta (SOR) 4-0 Urbizania Wanderers (ASG)
Virtus Redoccio (SOR) 2-1 Kingsgrove (BRE)

Champions League

Catrallo Calcio (SOR) 3-1 Liria (MYT)

---

End of the Road
Analysis in La Gazzetta which was published at the eve of the night that went into lore as ‘San Ortelio’s winningest IFCF night’

After the earlier shenanigans, the end of the summer also marks the point where international football shakes off its holiday vibes and enters moneytime as the ample remaining tickets for the group stage are up for debate. Our Ortelian representatives have not been dealt a comforting hand by the draw gods as we encounter a quartet of opponents which could well spell the end of this year's involvement - bar Catrallo's drop to the Challenger's Cup safety net. All remaining clubs cross their swords with an opponent of a higher calibre. For optimists, it is a perfect litmus test to value the current state of the Serie Nazionale. For realists, this could become a painful reminder of the economic balance of power.

Despite coming within three points of promotion to the highest tier, the semi-professionals of VC Pesari enter their own arena with the word 'underdogs' written in bold. This is not in the least the result of their fragmented start in the Serie Interregionale, where the departure of Adalberto Siboni left a huge gap in the goalscoring capacities. It's an issue with which the opponents shouldn't struggle as both Carrick and Howard banged them in for Goodfeather on their way back to the Zenith after a long decade. The Quakers might have been absent internationally since the Globe Cup 53, yet they've been a household name in San Ortelio as well ever since the Nepharim top tier made it on the local cable. The days of Rettinger might lie far behind us but the attacking style of Goodfeather should bulldozer over Pesari's second club.

Vittorio Club's opponents are mainly known for their domestic prowess, but the visitors to Stadia Scarpa complement that with international accolades. Indeed, the Champions Cup triumph of Urbizania Wanderers lies a few decades behind us, as does their unenviable record in Cygnus Cup finals. But Astograth's pride, and owners of a large domestic trophy cabinet, were still in the quarterfinals only three seasons ago. One could point to their stumble last year, when a clever Cotillard goal and a surprisingly solid defensive performance from Sportiva eliminated the Wanderers much earlier than anticipated, but as the saying goes - can we expect that lightning strikes twice? Fagli, authors of two narrow escapes in the Cup and a rocky start domestically, will need to improve their collective speed of execution as moments of grace from Spinesi will not suffice to eliminate the threat from Durmisi, Harrysson, Mann and Irving.

There might have been a few grins on the faces of Virtus officials when Cinquanta drew the Wanderers but those quickly disappeared when the officials picked the number three of last year's A-League as an opponent. Followers of the struggles from Canova and Lanzafame know how high the bar is set on the physical front in Brenecia, making this a battle of attrition for Redoccio. The Strawberries will face an opponent with pace and a vivacious attack, a setup that will form a first real test for the new partnership formed by Mallerbury and Vila. The Royals rely on star player Miriam Troegner as punching a group stage ticket is considered the bare minimum for the side in purple. The only hope for Virtus is the form from Bollonischian linchpin Bryant Marshall and the haste from Kingsgrove to reconnect with the international top: the quadruple CEdC winner has been out of contention since making the Champions League quarterfinals six years ago.

The fourth and final opponent, Mytanar powerhouse Liria, presented themselves seemingly as the 'least hard' draw for Catrallo Calcio. At least for those who missed the ease with which FK Arsika eliminated Pesari. And indeed, the heydays of Liria Prizren with an avalanche of international successes - including an unseen repeat victory in the Globe Cup, a regional triumph and a Champions Cup final - are lying a decade or three behind us. And yes, the domestic success that preceded their ticket was at the end of a fifteen year drought. But the Top League is on a meteoric rise and gets valued more and more internationally - as confirmed with the departure of Mersudin Smajic to the Zenith for good money. This doesn't sap the side in orange from having a set of gifted if inconsistent star players in Simic, Gvetadze and Pogaenik. Calcio will need to bring their best whirlwind and a top-notch Sgarbi and Moreschini to provide Carmine Garofalo with the goals. A minor opportunity for Il Buffalo lies in a possible reshuffle of the defensive lines as Liria needs to reinvent themselves after five years with Badjkev at the helm. But still, for the fourth time, the odds are pointing in favor of the foreign visitors.

[San Ortelio]

3-4th of September
Football
Serie Nazionale - MD5

---

Results

SSD Borgonovo         0–1       Inter Catrallo
Fagli Cinquanta       2–1          Esca Unione
Catrallo Calcio       0–0      Virtus Redoccio
US San Savola         2–0         Pro Stampano
Robur Astello         1–2 Sportiva Montelcampo
FC Orsi               1–0            FC Pesari

Table

Serie Nazionale          Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
 1 Inter Catrallo          5    4   1   0     4    0   +4    13
 2 Catrallo Calcio         5    3   2   0     8    4   +4    11
 3 Sportiva Montelcampo    5    3   1   1    10    5   +5    10
 4 Virtus Redoccio         5    2   2   1     6    3   +3     8
 5 FC Pesari               5    2   2   1     7    5   +2     8
 6 US San Savola           5    2   1   2     3    5   −2     7
 7 Fagli Cinquanta         5    1   3   1     6    7   −1     6
 8 Esca Unione             5    2   0   3     3    4   −1     6
 9 Pro Stampano            5    1   1   3     3    5   −2     4
10 FC Orsi                 5    1   1   3     2    4   −2     4
11 Robur Astello           5    0   3   2     1    3   −2     3
12 SSD Borgonovo           5    0   1   4     2   10   −8     1

---

Jules Haney sported a grin far larger than most strikers after only a single goal in 450 minutes of gametime. With his back against the wall of the dark grey away dressing room in Stadio del Fiume, he watched a hilarious setting unfold as a celebration for the newly gained first spot, the result of a goalless draw from their archnemesis against Virtus. Not that Il Viola had excelled but a well-placed toe from supersub de Harlus had clinched three points against the unheralded red lantern from the competition.

Standing on top of the physio table, Evan Kerraway dictated the tune in his underpants and waved around his purple towel. After four years with the club, the powerful centre-back had become part of the furniture and by now, he could even sing along the cantùs in the original Ortelian speech, albeit in a thick Brenecian accent. The one he chanted was the one dedicated to captain Calcaterra, not just his counterpart in the heart of the defense but also his best buddy off the pitch. A fact that was confirmed by Evan knowing every word, but replacing each occurrence of 'Calcaterra' in the lyrics by a rhythmic fok'n' bastard. Having a cantù from the fans to your name is serious business in San Ortelio, an honour which only gets bestowed on players who made a remarkable contribution to the club history - such as, in the case of Calcaterra - captaining the very first cup victory.

The recipient took the honour in pride banging on the side wall - only a bit off the beat. In the closing minutes, a desperate Borgonovo had thrown everything forward but attempts from both Krupp and Priola had been stopped in their tracks by the captain, turning the 32-year old into the hero of the night. It hadn't really gotten that many headlines but with five clean sheets in a row, the whole defensive line (including goalie Roscioli) stood at the pinnacle of their capacities.

"What a sight, huh," Haney smiled at his compatriot seated next to him. Being Tikariotian as well, Aldon Busk naturally drew to Haney when they both arrived here, even if their characters were far apart. Jules Haney was open, friendly, well-natured, positive and, as a consequence, admired by all. Aldon was… Aldon.
"Better save their energy, big game next week," he grumbled. "Pesari somehow lost to the Bears, they'll be fuming."
"Oh Aldon, let them enjoy it whilst it lasts, I mean, in a few weeks we're back to-"

Somewhere in the middle of that sentence, Aldon brusquely rose and grabbed his towel.

"See, that's the problem," he said, "that's the fuckin' problem."

The second time, the former Bul Khungur midfielder shouted those words as if they tasted poorly in his mouth. His eyes flamed and the singing stopped, with Kerraway looking notable, frozen halfway a dancing move.

"What do you-"

By now, Busk no longer needed the encouragement to go on.

"What I mean is that we're doing well for a few weeks and everyone thinks it's good enough. We could, with this early lead get far, finally reach up and above the middle of the table. But no, it's just dancing our way to the fall and when it happens, you lift your shoulders and claim it's inevitable. It's such a fuckin' waste."

He turned on his heels and marched to the showers. Never before it had been so quiet in the dressing room of a squad with such a flawless start.

But during the forest run on Monday morning, coach Fezzardi noticed far more effort than usual.

[San Ortelio]

3-4th of September
Waterpolo
Lega Pallanuoto Nationale - MD15

---

Results

PN Catrallo         9–6        Astello Mare
Stampano ANC        8–8           Focarsane
Neptunus Pollagno   4–10     Barceglie Club
FARPE               9–15  Tridente Toccagno
Stella Anezzo       5–8   Pesari Pescadores

Table

Lega Pallanuoto Nazionale  Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
 1 Stampano ANC             15   10   4   1   142  102  +40    34
 2 Barceglie Club           15   10   4   1   135  109  +26    34
 3 Pesari Pescadores        15   10   1   4   134   97  +37    31
 4 Focarsane                15    7   3   5   122  118   +4    24
 5 Neptunus Pollagno        15    7   3   5   117  124   −7    24
 6 Astello Mare             15    7   1   7   114  122   −8    22
 7 Tridente Toccagno        15    5   2   8   128  133   −5    17
 8 PN Catrallo              15    4   1  10   110  121  −11    13
 9 Stella Anezzo            15    4   1  10   108  130  −22    13
10 FARPE                    15    1   0  14   101  155  −54     3

Moments

Even Stefano Bartelli, the fatherly coach from ANC, was shouting incoherently now and the supporters from both sides were losing it. Five times, five times already, had Focarsane lost an advantage already so far. The sturdy underdog looked every bit as talented as the leader and at least twice as arduous, but Stampano fought themselves back in it time and time again. The title, by a few already jotted down in pencil since the Pesari loss, was slipping from their fingers.

They knew it, but time was running out to make their way past Foca'Loca - as the upset-prone home formation was called every so often in the press. Stampano's Francesco Fallerini got into possession with seconds on the clock. In theory, they had a perfect end play for these kinds of situations: two double passes to reach Quinzi. But Focarsane had done their homework and covered the goalgetter. Fallerini hesitated but decided to try his luck: a powerful effort on goal but from far out, allowing Dell'Anno to push it out of danger. Seconds later, the final whistle confirmed that Stampano ANC had dropped two expensive points.


Moments

Paolo Guardini, coach from Barceglie Club, never enjoyed the visit to Pollagno. He sensed it from the little things, such as the tricky road to the water whose corners were just a little too tight for the bus all the way up to the six metres line that was in a nauseating hue. All stuff that shouldn't matter but he was too superstitious not to see a relation between the slipping back wheels of the bus and that they had lost three of the last five confrontations here - some at moments when Neptunus was at their lowest. And this evening was one in the same vein, with Guardini’s team struggling to break through the wall from the adversary. A meagre 3-2 graced the scoreboard and as they tried to regroup for the third period, the tension was clear.

“Put me in, coach.”

The bulky attacker said it surprisingly softly but looked Guardini straight in the eye. It was a good month since Angelo Piscaglia had been sidelined and the absence of the ‘Flying Fish’ was felt dearly - not just in the pool but also in the dressing room as his haphazard jokes and delightful comebacks lightened the mood. Five weeks ago, his shoulder was torn and well, it looked nasty when Guardini joined the first session with the physio for mental support.

“Put me in, coach,” he repeated.
“I can’t, Angelo, I mean. The doc said ‘three months’ first and only just he said ‘four weeks more’.”
“That was last week. Now is now.”

If it were torn again, it could mean the end of his active career, Guardini realized. But then again, it didn’t need to be said aloud - Angelo knew that as well. Fallerini hesitated but decided to try his luck.

“Get your cap on.”


Moments

“But… They were good last night, very good. I mean, it could have been ten for us and…”
“It’s against Stella. Possibly the worst Stella of the last few years.”

It was clear, Ettore Pallaschi was not here for chit chatting. The president of Pesari Pescadores sat seated in his office chair, seemingly the only thing of value in the fairly modest headquarters of the water polo club. A remnant of his days as a trader, a risky business but one that had given him enough fortune to focus on his hobby now. But even then, he was only interested in the business of winning.

“You can only win-”
“Four losses so far, that’s no winning record, Fedo.”

Federico Terzi bowed his head - he knew that there was little chance to finish a sentence tonight. Working with the Pescadores meant having the, theoretical, best club of San Ortelio at his disposal, but also knowing your place. By now, Terzi had become a thorn in the side of the president but with his positive style and enthusiasm, he had all other members of the club around his finger. A bit of a standoff, if it weren’t for him getting berated by Pallaschi about the results fortnightly - the thundering comments after the Mare loss were still ringing in his ear. Terzi hesitated but decided to try his luck.

“Presidente, can I suggest the following. If we won’t win the title, I’ll resign - with no payments for the rest of my contract required but…”
“But what?”
“But if we grab it, then I want full control of the transfers this summer, full control of the players budget.”

Pallaschi stroked his fashionable beard, but by the hesitation in his response, Terzi knew already that the fish had bitten.

[San Ortelio]

4th of September
Cycling
Trofeo Rossi-Valente

---

Men’s

 1 Manuele Di Paolo (Lacca)                  4:25:46
 2 Marzio Pavarin (Fornittore Bettini)          0:33
 3 Luca Maronchini (Berettini)               
 4 Giuseppe Bordon (Odiol - CycloMas)           0:34
 5 Damiano Lagani (Ravita)                      0:38
 6 Sergio Vardis (Riva - Z)                  
 7 Pietro Marangon (Banco Fenice - Pra)         2:57
 8 Nazzareno Oriali (Lacca)                 
 9 Antonio Verza (Odiol - CycloMas)        
10 Domenico Pancheri (Mattrazzi - VAL)          4:18

Women’s

 1 Gaia Cianetti (Vino Ferruci)              3:32:32
 2 Chiara Ugolini (Banco Fenice - Pra)          0:21
 3 Ginevra Marazza (Odiol - CycloMas)           0:24
 4 Catalena Carrera (Alpine)                    0:33
 5 Annalora Lantini (Vino Ferruci)                   
 6 Cecilia Ervolino (Quaranta Assura)       
 7 Bianca Tiengo (Lacca)                  
 8 Gioia Barbareschi (Squadra Bartali)          0:51
 9 Aurora Fosschi (Squadra Bartali)             1:08
10 Sara Della Fave (Mattrazzi - VAL)            2:03

She wasn't that far out. Chiara Ugolini felt that if she really stretched her arm, she might be able to touch Cianetti but then again, the dark red jersey already took the corner. With a firm flick of the elbow, Chiara requested for the next rider to take over the pace. With less than fifteen kilometres left before the finish line, there was no time to lose. But no one came around. As Chiara turned back, she saw the grinning face - either gloating or really on edge just to follow her, not sure - from Annalora Lantini. The other Vino Ferrucci rider was known as a shrewd tactician but you didn't need to be one to know that all she needed to do now was sit on the wheel from Ugolini whilst her teammate made a dash for it. Chiara didn't mind, she knew the ropes well enough to confirm she would do the same if the tables were turned. But there were six others behind them, six who - she presumed - were there to win as well. And none of them moved an inch out of the single row of riders that rapidly moved to the finish line in Bidone.

Six and none of them in the Banco Fenice colours, with the notable gold trim. Not that she was blaming Valentina or Anna, the last two who had remained on board. On the undulating terrain and winding roads near the Kitaran border, chasing a surprisingly strong early break had been quite a harsh effort and the two had given their all to not just catch up with the attackers, but also to whittle down the numbers in the bunch. Chiara had attacked as soon as they were caught, on a small incline with a less sharp gradient than anticipated. The initial plan had been to go from further out but, yeah, the race hadn’t allowed it. However, despite quite an effort, Ugolini didn’t get away. She tried, once more and again they were on her wheel like moths to a flame. And then Gaia Cianetti attacked.

And no one reacted.

Yes, she knew the theory - first finish someone else's plate before starting your own. But didn’t all those other gals want to win either? Yes, she knew she was the favourite and as such, had to carry the heaviest load. But right now, they were letting go of Cianetti, a rider with a string of good results leading up to a second place in the Tre Valle just a few weeks ago. A rider who had a GP San Mamerto and a few lesser known races to her name, a rider who you shouldn’t give a fifteen second gap to. But apparently, everyone else was feeling fine with this.

Chiara swung to the other side of the road, now waving angrily to all the others. It wasn’t till now that she noted that the Squadra had two in front, but neither seemed to move. They might have been at their limit, but Chiara refused to believe that everyone was. A sideways glance to Marazza wouldn’t work - the short, nimble climber had seemingly made it her life goal to become Ugolini’s nemesis and bit into the back wheel of her opponent. In the Tre Valle, she had profited from a similar situation: back then Chiara had waited for too long, assuming that those with her had some dash left in the tank. By the time she went for it, the first two trophies were out.

It all came back to her, the sentiment of Marazza and Cianetti grinning on the podium, far too satisfied with beating the biggest name on the start sheet. Chiara tried to contain it - she knew there was one last bit uphill left. It was barely marked as a hill but in these circumstances, it had to do. With all her might, she went for it, trying not to look ahead too far, especially as the road ahead remained empty. The Squadra duo dropped first, then good old Ervolini, Lantini next, … One by one, they succumbed to the hits from Chiara Ugolini. But…

But Marazza hung on and the road stayed empty. Only at the finish line, Chiara saw the waving arms above the bordeaux jersey from Gaia Cianetti, waving to the fans as she banked her second Classic. Much to her frustration, Marazza didn’t even try to pick a fight - the goal was achieved. Despite winning all big five one-day races already in her career, her tally for the year remained to only one of the Big Five, a disappointment in her case. And yes, there they were.

“I’m here live at the finish line with Chiara Ugolini, Chiara, again a valiant effort but once more, someone else was stronger today?”

It was in part frustration with the result, in part sulkiness over the light drizzle and then in a third, larger part, again frustration with everything else - but for once, it wasn’t the cheery Ugolini the audience knew and loved.

“If everyone rides against one person, it’s not always the strongest one who wins.”

About three seconds later, she knew the quote was going to come back to bite her.

[San Ortelio]

6-8th of September
Football
IFCF - Third Preliminary Round

---

Liga B Champions Trophy

Vittorio Club Pesari (SOR) 3-2 Goodfeather (NPH)

Challengers Cup

Urbizania Wanderers (ASG) 0-2 Fagli Cinquanta (SOR)
Kingsgrove (BRE) 2-0 Virtus Redoccio (SOR)

Champions League

Liria (MYT) 0-0 Catrallo Calcio (SOR)

---

Serafino Evacuo wants to swear. He wants to tempest and shout, but amidst a swirling and boiling Royal Park, it feels like his words will have no value. Every preparation, every preview offered a different methodology but they all agreed on one key point - avoid a goal in the early stages of the game. We’re four minutes in. It wasn’t even such a dangerous infiltration from the so-obviously nicknamed purple-and-gold, with Miriam Troegner receiving the ball about thirty yards from the goalmouth. Nothing to worry about.

The team was on a high, coming off the back of eight games without a loss, including four victorious confrontations in the Challengers’ Cup. This should’ve been like the visit to Club ESF, according to calendars two weeks ago but now an eternity away. Simply contain their main avenues of danger, mold into their gameplay and throw sand in the machine. But Kingsgrove didn’t seem to have a gameplan. After five seasons of snubs ahead of the IFCF group stage, they approached it like a schoolyard classic - not the playbook tactics from the Elves but attackers coming out of thin air, patternless, with just the goal in mind. It was the middle of a tornado and Serafino Evacuo could feel his head turn round and round.

--

It’s a duel which the people around here would call masculine and others downright dirty, but whether it’s the waving of his arms or not, the referee still sees it simply as a throw-in for the Strawberries. Carthy Yila waves away the ball boy before picking up a different spare. Despite the panting of his breath, there is a bit of a grin on his face - for games like this, he left Avidia City behind, even including the first-row spectators trying to reach him with their spit and beers. Let’s hope those are beers. In theory, he should make haste as it is Redoccio who needs to score but the Royals smell blood. The memory from the away loss still lingers with them, a confrontation in which they held the majority of the chances but in which Redoccio played to their strengths: a good organisation and fast vertical attacks.

Yila took to it like a fish to water. Jubenar Mallerbury, the phlegmatic Ko-orenite, formed the perfect partner to execute a good cop/bad cop routine on the pitch: Yila let his tackles do the talking, Mallerbury gave it all a bit of flair. Off pitch, their two accents collided just enough to make one another understandable, but on the field, they spoke the same language. In a way, Carthy looked forward to challenges like this but it would’ve been fun if they weren’t the one to score. Now, a season fighting against relegation had given him experience with trying to stop a river with your bare hands - but when the clock was also working against you, it lost quite a bit of its charm.

--

Get away from that midfield and roam the wings. The words from Romero still reverberated in his ears but Falco Borghesi scratched his head just as the whistle resounded for the second half. In a way, it was half a miracle the scoreboard only read 1-0. They hadn’t gotten anywhere near Mia Ria so far, the illustrious Chromatikan goalie of the home squad. After more than a year, the formation used should’ve felt like home but Falco felt as wandering lost - either being hunted down or chasing a ghost continuously. With players like Bagheria and Confalonieri by his side, they should be prepared for physical battles but this was a level of pressure… It was something different.

Falco came too late again with his interception and could hear it back roam the wings. Or maybe it was just the gaffer shouting like a madman, contemplating whether this was a good time to throw in Marcello Tomei instead - disclaimer, despite the attitude from the youngest Tomei brother, it probably wasn’t. Fighting every instinct, Borghesi removed himself from the play a little, only to get the ball a few seconds later. For the first time, he could turn and scan the opposing half without some Brenecian cutting him in half. Philipsdottir tried to overlap, Marshall tried to distract two opponents with a clever run… Ten seconds later, Marshall shot on goal. Wide, admittedly, but the Bollonischian got closer than they had gotten so far.

--

A slight glance to the clock. Twenty more minutes but for Padraig Péricard, it feels as if they're deep into the second extra time. Continuously he's been mangled by a string of defenders who not just were out to so blood pour from his socks, but also did a proper job on soaking up the tactical board: it's been nigh impossible to connect with Boldi. They know where our strengths lie, in opening up space for one another and attracting opponents but the lessons were learned in advance. For Padraig, it has been more than an hour of fighting against superior numbers. The slight rush from the start of the second half deflated and now they're again hoping for the impossible, especially as Kingsgrove starts to realise that this result suffices for them.

Another long ball from a back under pressure: the feeling that if you kick it into free space it is technically not a bad pass - it is just not a good pass. Padraig has chased umpteen of those in his life and the lead in his feet won't halt him from doing it again. But just as he accepts to be late, again, the Royals left-back slips up. No hesitation now, the Gouvanarchois picks it up and tries to bridge the remaining forty yards. The cries roll down the stands, no way that this plucky opponent could… he doesn't hear it, all he does is glance sideways. A fresher Zsinko would pop up near the box but the powerful Pasargan left his best energy out there already. It's all or nothing and his head is pounding, legs are racing, he's almost there, now or… The shot from Péricard isn't perfect technically but well into the furthest corner. As is Mia Ria.

--

With his arms, Marino Tomei waves the guys forward. The carefully honed plan from Romero is now a rat pack although I'm sure some tactical board claims it to be a 3-4-3. Together with Yila and Mallerbury, Marino has to hold the fort - or what's left of it. In front of him he sees the squad in some last-ditch efforts. Hindsight would allow him to reflect on this, appreciate how he as the sole youth product of the Strawberries left between the lines can help them write their international name. Handing a trashing to Club ESF had been a high and this, well, … Shit. Another loss of possession of someone with five guys in front of him. Kingsgrove had been falling back but within seconds, they're left and right and…

It's all over. In theory, a goal suffices for extra time but Marino Tomei bows his head and there's nothing who shouts to lift it. He was late, far too late… By the time his leg was fully stretched in the last-ditch effort, the nets already rattled and the fans jeered. It's all over.

[San Ortelio]

7-11th of September
Tennis
Banco Fenice Series - Palladium Open

---

Singles men

Quarterfinals
Andrea Vergnani          6   2   6
Leandro Baliani          3   6   0

Luca Masciarelli         6   6
Massimo Recinella        3   4

Valentino Zinetti        1   6   1
Fiorenzo Tartoni         6   3   6

Domenico Lunghi          7   4   6
Mirco Tonti              5   6   3

Semifinals
Andrea Vergnani          6   6
Luca Masciarelli         0   3

Fiorenzo Tartoni         6   6
Domenico Lunghi          2   3

Finals
Andrea Vergnani          1   7   2
Fiorenzo Tartoni         6   5   6


Singles women

Quarterfinals
Elena Fiori              4   6   7
Monia Baronti            6   3   5

Annalisa Fornaciara      4   0
Elisa Cinquetta          6   6

Claudia Borchi           6   6
Alessandra Lazzerini     1   1

Barbara Scibbia          6   3   4
Giorgia Pirola           1   6   6

Semifinals
Elena Fiori              6   5   6
Elisa Cinquetta          4   7   4

Claudia Borchi           6   6
Giorgia Pirola           3   4

Final
Elena Fiori              2   6   6
Claudia Borchi           6   0   4


Doubles

Semifinals
M. Recinella/O. Recinella    6   6
E. Fiori/G. Giunti           0   4

L. Crepaldi/G. Pirola        1   7   6
F. Tartoni/A. Vergnani       6   6   4

Final
M. Recinella/O. Recinella    6   6
L. Crepaldi/G. Pirola        1   3

Will the Next Tartoni Please Stand Up?

As Fiorenzo Tartoni triumphed with flair, putting a fifth Palladium Open trophy on his mantle, the gentleman of Ortelian sports also gave an insight on his future. Without putting a decisive end time on it, he indicated that the show didn't need to go on forever for him. "I looked with a positive mix of admiration and jealousy to Pelissa Giannapoulos at the Olympics. She might have missed out on that medal but she ended her career at the pinnacle of the sport, still capable of battling for every prize. Ending on your own terms, that's important to me. And if that's in five years or just one, that's less important."

All good and well, but if and when Tartoni hangs up the racket, who will take his spot as the frontrunner of the Ortelian representation in the NSTT? During the past season, a few players got a proper chance to measure themselves to the world top and whilst Andrea Vergnani and Graziano Giunti had their highlights, they will never break into the top twenty. Others, such as Massimo Recinella and Luciano Crepaldi, made more waves in the doubles, both grinding their way to the top ten there. However, if we look forth to a potential second Grand Slam winner, the best odds could be with the next generation. But who can carry that legacy into victorious finals?

Mirko Tonti, 20

In nothing, the energetic Tonti resembles his big example, bar potentially the technical prowess in his backhand. But whilst Tartoni remains calm and diplomatic in all circumstances, Tonti tends to lose himself in a match - and his opponents know that. The Montelcampo Open in July could, and maybe should, have been his first triumph in a Banco Fenice series tournament but as the experienced Vergnani turned on the mental screws, the tables turned. His desire to win sometimes works to his advantage and with his undeniable talent, larger-than-life confrontations on the NSTT are on the horizon. But to challenge for the number one spot, Tonti will need to channel that desire and gain consistency.

Leandro Baliani, 19

The yin to Tonti's yang, the composed and charming Baliani formed his nemesis throughout the youth ranks - that they now form a prolific doubles partnership is a nice twist of faith. Every inch a gentleman, Leandro Baliani makes an admired interviewee and his in-depth knowledge of the game extends vastly beyond a few more experienced colleagues. Coming in from the Juniors category, Baliani came in with a bang, making a semi-final at the Astello Open in his debut season on the domestic tour. It's a performance he hasn't exceeded in the subsequent three years: whilst his base level grew, there seems to be an uncrossable barrier in his performances. Despite his promising first service, he might lack the speed to break into the big leagues.

Annalisa Fornaciara, 19

Can a nineteen-year old be a comeback kid? Fornaciari became an overnight sensation as she triumphed in the Lido Gardens Open aged sixteen and seemed on her way to take the womens' category by storm. Few would have guessed at the time that three years later, this would still be the only trophy in her collection. In a recent interview, Fornaciara pointed to some difficult soul searching after her meteoric rise: "For three years, training was a chore and one I often avoided." But a new partner and coach instigated a new era for her and bit by bit, results are following suit. No one doubts that raw talent galore can be found in Fornaciara - that marvellous double handed backhand - but we'll need more deep runs before we confirm her return to the domestic top, let alone an appearance in the closing stages of an NSTT tournament.

Domenico Lunghi, 19

When Lunghi gained a license for the NSTT, snickering could be heard left and right. The presence on the deciding board of Flavio Lunghi, SOTA president and grandfather of the fairly introverted tennisser, seemed a more decisive factor than his prowess. Lunghi Jr came in with limited accolades and initially paid the price, struggling to escape the qualifiers. But, credit where it is due, Domenico Lunghi showed potential for growth and seemed to learn from each mistake. It ensured a few strong showings on hard courts, especially when he could mask his lower quality service. These shortcomings ensure that a Tartoni-like career is unlikely but growing into a full fledged NSTT player, something deemed unlikely twelve months ago, is now on the books.

Elisa Cinquetta, 18

The hardest-working girl in town, she was named by Elena Fiori. It is rare that the leading lady of the women's circuit takes a liking for an opponent but it is telling that Cinquetta forms the exception to that rule. There is little stylish about her tennis or physique, but she does bring an unrelenting energy and grinta to the court which ensures that every rally will be contested. It brought her to four semifinals of marquee tournaments this year alone and a big price seems only a matter of time. With both Crepaldi focussing on the doubles and Giunti reconsidering his future on the Tour, spots are opening up for the NSTT and few look as close to the requirements as Cinquetta. It's an open question how her style, sometimes messy but always present, will translate to the big courts but we're curious to discover it.

Valentino Zinetti, 18

Potentially the most technically apt of the whole list but Zinetti has not yet turned that potential into an awful lot of deep runs. Those close to him call it sensitive, others used the phrase 'mentally fragile' when discussing the Catrallo-based youngster. Zinetti excels against an opponent who plays the gentlemen's game: it is no surprise that most of his highlights come from confrontations with Tartoni and Crepaldi. But to make it to those big opponents, one needs to grind his way past several rounds and that's the difficulty for Zinetti. It requires a toughness which is as of now not present in the kid with the fluent style and the waving locks. If that changes, he could explode - but it's a giant 'if'.

Barbara Scibbia, 16

With her semifinals at the Lido Gardens, this debutant made waves from the very first moment she stepped on the court and it seems as if Scibbia has no intention of stopping. With a style that reverberates the image of her big example Valentina Spetsova, the petite but incredibly fast 16-year old can outsmart far more experienced opponents. In this Palladium Open she came close to another semifinal appearance, putting Giorgia Pirola on edge. Her quirky and honest interviews turned her overnight into the new chou-chou of the stands, ramping up the expectations in the slipstream. That might be the risk for this NSTT-bound (albeit not yet immediately) gem: after playing on cloud nine, let's see how she handles ups, but also downs on the domestic circuit.

[San Ortelio]

10-11th of September
Football
Serie Nazionale - MD6

---

Results

Inter Catrallo        0–0            FC Pesari
Sportiva Montelcampo  4–0              FC Orsi
Pro Stampano          0–1        Robur Astello
Virtus Redoccio       2–1        US San Savola
Esca Unione           0–1      Catrallo Calcio
SSD Borgonovo         2–2      Fagli Cinquanta

Table

Serie Nazionale          Pld    W   D   L    GF   GA   GD   Pts 
 1 Catrallo Calcio         6    4   2   0     9    4   +5    14
 2 Inter Catrallo          6    4   2   0     4    0   +4    14
 3 Sportiva Montelcampo    6    4   1   1    14    5   +9    13
 4 Virtus Redoccio         6    3   2   1     8    4   +4    11
 5 FC Pesari               6    2   3   1     7    5   +2     9
 6 Fagli Cinquanta         6    1   4   1     8    9   −1     7
 7 US San Savola           6    2   1   3     4    7   −3     7
 8 Robur Astello           6    1   3   2     2    3   −1     6
 9 Esca Unione             6    2   0   4     3    5   −2     6
10 Pro Stampano            6    1   1   4     3    6   −3     4
11 FC Orsi                 6    1   1   4     2    8   −6     4
12 SSD Borgonovo           6    0   2   4     4   12   −8     2

---

“I really think I can play, coach.”

Luo Lang tries to give away his most confident posture, all the while trying to avoid direct eye contact with the gaffer. In all fairness, that’s not too hard for a lad his size.

“Luo…”
“Seriously, I mean, with the right painkiller and…”
“There’s blood leaking from underneath the bandage again. Let’s not.”

The tall Yuezhouan peeks down to his leg, feeling once more the large cut chafing along the line in the back of his knee. He sustained it so stupidly during warm-up and… Deep down, he already knew it. A calm nod from Chiesa and he stumbles out of the dressing room. Diego Chiesa chokes back a doubt as he sees Lang disappear into the cramped hallway of the Stadio del Fiume. One of his key players getting a nasty cut during an innocent warm-up duel, just what he could miss.

“Coach… What’s the change in the line-up?”

Captain Paolo Castelli asks it with his deep, solemn voice. It’s a running joke that he could have been a pastor if it weren’t for his on-pitch talent but he does play that role in the dressing room, herding the youngsters together into the right direction. He slowed down greatly in the last twelve months as time finally caught up with him but Chiesa couldn’t miss him for a bit. Even though the board considered his departure, Chiesa personally vouched for his stay. After two seasons where they bridged across to the middle in the pack, this should have been the year where they aimed for the first six - and Castelli would be the skipper by his side. He hasn’t asked Paolo yet, but if all goes well, he could be Diego’s assistant next year. Could.

“Yes, ehm… Give me a second.”

Diego leaves through his notes, well aware that he doesn’t have a plan for this situation. Not that he didn’t prepare this game properly. Heck, ever since the home loss to Inter: minutes after the last whistle, he started scribbling and planning and hasn’t stopped. If it weren’t for the tension, he would never be able to avoid a big yawn. He tried it all, with or without wings, reinstating Spizzichino, three guys in the back or four or five. But it was always assumed that Luo Lang, the tall anchor of the formation, would be there to face the might of the Cinquanta midfield.

“Ok guys, listen up,” Diego claps his hands, trying to get everyone’s attention. It’s not that hard - the atmosphere resembles a cemetery. It’s not hard to see, they’re already one goal behind without setting a foot on the pitch.

“Let’s stick our heads together now,” he starts.

Oh god, that sounds dumb. Every press outlet already painted his image before his first game: the super young head coach without prior footballing experience, the man who steers on data analysis, the laptop coach. And in every interview, Diego tries to fight that image. He’s so much more, he insists, he’s a full package and puts people management even first.

By now, some people have started to believe it.

Diego Chiesa isn’t one of them. He dreads these moments when he needs to ‘inspire’. To ‘improvise’. A few weeks ago, he saw Roselyn Bentum in a pre-game huddle. It wasn’t clear whether she was scolding her players or cheering them on. At first, he found it preposterous, an act for the stands. Two hours later, they had beaten a very stubborn Robur. Diego knew it was part of the deal but… Maybe he should ask Paolo not to be his assistant but rather in some sort of partnership? But that didn’t matter, and his thoughts snapped back, these guys need guidance now and I must provide it.

“We all know it haven’t been our weeks so far. Four losses in a row with some bad luck, Marco out for months after that heavy car crash, an illness here and there,” oh my god what are you doing, a second voice in his head cried, “and now Luo getting caught out with a cut. We haven’t been blessed lately.”

Diego looked across the room - if anything, they all looked more beaten. Cinquanta would chew them up.

“And yes, there is criticism. But I don’t care. Everyone here is working hard on training and is doing their utmost to execute the plans. I can’t blame any single player - every single one tries to contribute to our SSD. So maybe…”

Damnit, Chiesa thought, I should have had a plan to talk about now. A plan.

“... maybe we just should stop trying to have a plan. Let’s focus on football. Simple as that. Mosca, head up, we all trust in you.”

The tormented goalie nodded. He had missed a key intervention against Esca, their key change to reap some result.

“Back four, Luca, Simone, Rocco and Fontana. You know how it works - pinning on Rodgers, catching Okonye on the offside, keep communicating.”

Together, the four shared over eight-hundred games at the highest level, Diego knew that everything he said would be repetition.

“Paolo, you make sure that the organisation is well in midfield - Carlo and Grig make the miles. Go vertical, don’t let them bring you under pressure”

It looked like a desperate gamble, with Castelli being about the age of Carlesi and Rijkhart combined, but they were about the last midfielders he had at his disposal. The youngsters were fast enough and Paolo clever enough.

“Faith, Cisco, Nkech - no directions. None. Just move around between midfield and defense, force them out of position and keep working for one another.”

Something within Diego cramped up. He should have had a dozen slides for this, or at least directions on the tactical board. But he had no plan and if he would’ve, there was no time for it. All he knew was that Anza would have one and that it undoubtedly involved the Fagli defenders doing what they do best - dispossessing. If his mavericks, none reaching a metre seventy when down to their socks, could just focus on movement, maybe miracles could happen. Miracle might be the word. Nkechi was struggling with his form and Priola hadn’t yet found his rhythm after six years with Sportiva. Too often, Faith Krupp formed the sole source of danger but by now, all teams knew the infiltration power from the Eshian winger.

“And Federico, you’re our secret weapon when Fagli had enough,” Diego tried to say without much intonation. In what was, to all accounts, a very calm and collected dressing room, his tall striker was notably outspoken. Even more, it was the reason why he played here and not for a better club, as his numbers usually added up. Chiesa nearly feared his own words but Celli showed he had something between his ears and nodded with the face of someone who really tried to spell ‘teamwork’ with his expression.

It was a gamble and Chiesa knew it. The guys knew it. And he knew the guys knew it. But as they walked out to the pitch, Paolo patted his back.

“Luck will turn, coach. And if not, we’ll fucking make it turn.”

[San Ortelio]

10th of September
Swimming
Costa a Costa

---

Men’s

1 Federico Garonne     1:32:13.9
2 Pasquale Nero        1:32:15.0
3 Nicola Ciavatta      1:32:15.3
4 Carlo Missaglia      1:32:15.6
5 Giacomo Di Iesi      1:33:39.5

Women’s

1 Lorena Algisi        1:39:44.2
2 Fabiana Algisi       1:39:45.1
3 Raquele Medici       1:40:28.4
4 Grazia Tamaro        1:40:58.0
5 Fabrizia Agnelli     1:42:01.8

---

MemOrtelio Sport
Spin-off of the wildly popular series which zooms in on events or people that once captivated the attention of the public eye but which have fallen into obscurity since. The newest series focuses on sports topics from yesteryear. This particular episode, of which you can find an excerpt from the second act, tells the story of two notable swimming sisters, nearly half a century ago.

An elderly woman, seated hunched in a chair but with a twinkle in her eyes, explains.

"For the majority of people, that sacred second Saturday of September was the turning point but to me, the turn was already taken two months earlier, at the Olympics. Only now, it was in front of the people, in the limelight."

The screen pans to images of a series of the 400m. It's an early heat and the inspiring atmosphere of the evening sessions is absent. None of the swimmers in the heat manage to set a time which would put a convincing claim on a finals spot, but still the little Ortelian flag with 'Algisi' next to it is the last to make it across.

"The Olympics hadn't started well for me. Not for any of us, I must add. I knew this wasn't my best event but still - it made me face the facts: 'good enough' was not good enough now. But an hour later Udo Akoji qualified for the semis and a certain pressure dropped off the shoulders of the whole selection. It was possible to excel, we realized."

We switch to the closing stretch of a 1500m heat, where a woman with a light blue bathing cap comes into the screen after the arrival of Electrumite Kieu Nguyen.

"People said afterwards that I was lucky to swim in her series, in the next lane. With the home audience going loco, Nguyen went like a rocket. It wasn't to my disadvantage, but you don't swim sixteen-o-two on that distance on slipstream alone."

A slo-mo of Lorena Algisi looking at her time, baffled and with her hands in front of her mouth.

"Still, it didn't get the appreciation it deserved. Udo won a first medal that night, who cared about a final spot?"

It shifts to the final itself, with some shots showing Algisi battling for fifth, falling back a little and eventually ending in seventh place.

"It was the very best I could do. It was like swimming against speedboats. That night, Eline Maats took twenty seconds off the Olympic record. Everyone went full throttle - for a 1500 metres - and you just had to follow. Maybe I had had a slightly better time if I balanced it a bit more, started slower but then again, if I would have finished with something left in the tank, I would have never forgiven myself."

Some final images of Lorena Algisi in Somer, waving to the crowd as her name lights up on the finish board.

"For me, it was an enormous mental boost. It confirmed: I wasn't out of place in that final. I could rightly call myself one of the eight best of the multiverse. After all those years in the shadows, it did wonders for my confidence. But not one word of congratulations from her. Nope, Fabiana was rather miffed over my success."

It's a similar background but with a different woman. It's hard to tell whether she's younger or older, but she clearly shares family roots with the first one as evidenced from the traits of her face.

"Does Lorena say I didn't congratulate her? Pfff. That is so her to say that. Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I? But I didn't join her for the celebrations. Of course! I still had my own race to swim on the final day of the Olympics and was focussed on that - where I ended in the top twenty, by the way. I don’t think that’s unreasonable, I had an ambition of my own.”

[narrator voice]The two Algisi sisters returned from Electrum with their relationship tenser than ever, but to the outside world, little was wrong. Whilst Lorena focussed behind the screens on keeping her level at an Olympic height, Fabiana remained well in the spotlights for the next months. Her partner Ettore Conti stood in the middle of a fiery duel about the leadership of the Green Party and Fabiana, known for her charity work for biodiversity and wildlife preservation, campaigned by his side. It became a successful election that saw Conti redirect the course of the movement for the next decade but which weighed on Fabiana.[/narrator voice]

“For me,” Fabiana continues, “it might have been the Costa a Costa I was the least prepared for. But ok, I knew that no one knew the Baia like I did.”

The screen goes to, as confirmed by an indicator at the bottom, images of that particular edition of the Costa a Costa. It zooms in on a group of four swimmers and after a few seconds, one can make out that Fabiana Algisi leads the quartet with Lorena in her trail.

“After all,” Lorena speaks again, “she had won the thing five times already, so I mainly kept myself to following her pace. I remember thinking ‘I can go faster’ but I suppressed the urge. I thought back to the Olympic final and realized that today, time didn’t matter, I had to be the one with a bullet left. Even if she tried to make a fool of me in front of the cameras.”

Back to the race. The group of four dwindled down to two. Fabiana Algisi still leads the pack but every once and a while turns back, raises her arm or splashes the water - it doesn’t matter. The order seems to be set in stone, Fabiana with Lorena in the slipstream.

“I would never want to compete like that, to be honest. Never,” a close-up from Fabiana Algisi. Her face is wrinkled but the attention is drawn to her stale-grey eyes. “She didn’t race to win. All she wanted was to beat me - it was just… I had paved the way for her to compete like this. She could use my training equipment, schedules, … Everything. And now all she wanted was to see me lose.”
“Each time she gestured, it made me more confident. All these years where she kept me in the shadows, all the small but painful slights, … I was sick and tired of being Lorena, the sister of. All I wanted was to be Lorena Algisi, full stop.”

It goes to a sprint. For a while, they seem to be tied as the jeers from the crowd intensify but in the final thirty metres, Lorena opens up a gap and is first to touch the board, granting her a triumph in the illustrious Costa a Costa.

“She walked out of the water, didn’t say a word to me. But at that moment - I’ve never felt so strong, so sure of myself. Look,” Lorena points out as an image gets on the screen of a smiling, younger version of herself, lifted on shoulders, “I felt like the caterpillar who finally was the butterfly. The podium, well… That was less.”
“She was... “, Fabiana, “she was like I never knew her before. Arrogant. She said something like ‘what do you think of it now’. I didn’t need that tone, didn’t deserve it.”
“I didn’t want us to fight, I just wanted the recognition. I remember asking,” Lorena, “to her, ‘what do you think we do now’. She didn’t even take a look at me and well… That must have been the last thing I ever said to her.”
“At that point, I decided that I didn’t need her in my life,” Fabiana, “didn’t want her in my life. I was happy, as an athlete, as an activist, as a partner, … So we severed all ties. It was hard for our parents, for sure, but for myself? I have no regrets.”

It cuts back to Lorena Algisi. The zoom out shows her in her living room, a large open space that makes her look small and fragile suddenly.

“No,” Lorena says, then hesitates before continuing, “I don’t regret it. I think.”

[San Ortelio]

10th of September
Triathlon
LaLoda powered by Spyrisol

---

Men’s

1 Rinaldo Loda          7:52:39.95
2 Chidi Okonkwo         8:00:16.09
3 Enzio Cerutti         8:07:49.97
4 Nazzareno Oriali      8:19:12.21
5 Antonio Valeri        8:31:00.44

Women’s

1 Silvia Lucarelli      8:45:15.18
2 Eva Brigante          9:08:43.57
3 Cornelia Valleri      9:23:31.38
4 Daria Del Mastro      9:42:40.87
5 Anna Brigante         9:54:05.62

---

It was quite the day in the editors room of the Gazzetta. The Palladium Open semis were in full swing, Virtus Redoccio was having a far tougher time against San Savola then expected and this edition of the Costa a Costa was lining up to become a classic with four swimmers all in one another’s vicinity. The undermanned staff tried to get a hold of it all on the wall of big screens in the dimly lit room, so they could be excused for missing the bottom left one that tracked the progress of LaLoda, the triathlon event that sprung from the Costa a Costa. It derives its name from the instigator and dominator of the race, Nicola Loda. They could be excused for missing it - but as long as the sports section fell under the aegis of Leonardo Motarelli, they would not.

“Who on f’ing earth is that f’ing guy?” Leonardo asked in his style which resembled someone yelling into your eardrum for obvious reasons. Contrary to the reporters, he hadn’t been in front of the wall before and was just passing by on his way to the main redaction. But he did have his greasy finger pointing on a seemingly small dot on the left bottom screen, where most of the image was taken by a single cyclist - the unmistakable Rinaldo Loda in the bright green outfit from main sponsor Spyrisol. The more experienced members knew what to do in these circumstances, but Cristian Righi, the young intern hadn’t been trained yet and opened his mouth.

“I think it’s Enzio Cerutti, sir. He was still with Loda when they came out of the water but has been dro-”
“Are you telling me that Enzio f’ing Cerutti not only rides a f’ing bicycle well enough to stay within half a minute of Rinaldo Loda, but also finds the time to dye his hair?” And as Leonardo leaned in closer, “And dye everything, it seems.”
“Well, ehm, …” chopped Cristian, leaning in to find any remnant of his confidence whilst indeed spotting that the second man in the race wasn’t the pale, freckled face of Cerutti.
“Besides, who on f’ing earth are you, you f’ing maggot?”
“I’m the in…. intern, sir,” Cristian stuttered, aware he wouldn’t find his confidence back in the coming week as Motarelli had only raised the volume with every sequence.
“Ah, the inintern. Well, mister Inintern, you not only find out who the hell that f’ing dot is - you also write me two-hundred on him for the website by the time Rinaldo Loda crosses the finish line. Capiche?”

Cristian nodded - too late he had discovered that, ironically, silence was golden when in conversation with Motarelli. Once the boss had left (and Cristian had double-checked), he inquired with a veteran colleague. Paride Velutti had been with the paper for over a decade, but had to share the bad news.

“It’s not that we don’t want to help you - we just really have no idea who that guy could be.”

By the time Righi had dug up a starting list, the mystery man had closed in on Loda. ‘OKONKWO’, his start number read.

“He’s no Kitaran Ortelian,” Velutti mused, “we would have heard something about him. But I can pass you on to some contacts who might have a clue.”

It wasn’t a masterpiece, but the website did contain two-hundred additional words when Rinaldo Loda crossed the finish line for his third consecutive triumph.

---

On his way to arrive as second, Chidi Okonkwo became the surprise package of this edition of LaLoda. Only a few months ago, the 25-year old Nyowani Kitaran fled his homeland as a result of the Kitaran Civil War. As Okonkwo has family members living in Adua, he qualifies for the SORRI (San Ortelian Refugee Relocation Initiative) but awaiting the paperwork, he lives and trains at the border camp where his long training hauls caught the attention of many. On the instigation of a local social assistant, Okonkwo subscribed for LaLoda at the last minute - and with result. Considering the lack of previous results in Spyrisol events, Okonkwo had to start from the back row which led to the Kitaran triathlete coming out of the water in ninth position. But during the cycling stretch of the event, Okonkwo went up and over all opposition, starting the closing twenty miles run with a small lead. In this section, expected victor Rinaldo Loda tracked back on him and, at one third of the course, overtook him again. Although the gap is opening up with Loda, the better runner, Okonkwo should be able to fend off Enzio Cerutti and take home an unanticipated but well-deserved second place.

”This. This is exactly what I meant,” Claudio Vignali mumbled to himself.

Enthusiastically, he clicked away the screen from the sportspaper and started typing out mails to everyone he knew with a link to the SORRI whilst calling in his assistant.

“Get me Letizia on the phone!”